


Formidable

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cunning, Dark Blaise Zabini, Dark Draco Malfoy, Dark Hermione Granger, Dumbledore Bashing, Evil Hermione Granger, F/M, Heir of Slytherin, Hermione Riddle, Morally Grey Hermione Granger, Slytherin Hermione, Soulmates, The Order Bashing, Weasley Bashing, dramione - Freeform, heiress of slytherin, hermione is voldemorts daughter, malfoy mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26835964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "If you think I'm playing with you," Hermione said accusingly, her wand leaving a stinging trail as she traced his serpent-like skin, "You are making a grave mistake."-Abandoned.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum
Comments: 111
Kudos: 348





	1. Chapter one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is called by the Sorting Hat, unprecedented, for a resorting.

The scarlet train slowly came to a grinding halt at Hogsmeade Station where Hagrid, the ground-keeper, awaited the familiar and new students with a jolly smile. Harry ran off of the steaming vessel and embraced the half giant in (what he thought to be) a bone-crushing embrace.

"Good to see yer, Harry." said the giant softly. The two conveyed few pleasantries before allowing the raven haired boy to embark onto a carriage with the promise of visiting the half-giant's hut soon.

Harry recoiled at the sight of the dark, skeletal creatures pulling the carriages. 'Thestrals' he remembered his dreamy friend, Luna, telling him last year. Despite having ridden on one, the Boy-Who-Lived figured that he would never become accustomed to seeing the gentle creatures signifying death. "At least not everybody has to see them." he mumbled under his breath, somewhat relieved somewhat alone.

Hermione had heard her best friend's quiet dismissal but could not find the Gryffindor courage supposedly embedded within her to inform him that he, in fact, was not alone. She could see them too, though she doubted that Harry had been told of what had happened at the beginning of the previous month, for he had been seeking his seldom moments of peace within trains.

During the time she spent mourning over her loss, Hermione had discovered an absurd disliking for pointless conversation. She found herself longing for long, intellectual debates but found herself stuck for options when neither of her friends could maintain even half an argument if the words "Quidditch" or "Food" were not present in the conversation. Typical.

Upon reaching the captivating castle of Hogwarts, the brunette ignored her small group of friends and left her luggage inside the corridor allocated for the Gryffindor's. She sat down in her normal seat on the red and gold clad table, her friends following suit moments after.

They had all begun to notice the change in her attitude. Ron quietly complaining to his sister, Ginny, that he had caught her rolling her eyes at him more than usual, though Ginny wrote him off by saying that he had indeed been a tad more annoying than usual. But that did not excuse her apathy towards... everything; Ginny had been astounded when Hermione had not corrected her passionately when she purposely misstated a fact in order to get a rise from her. What had surprised her even more were the streaks of malicious silver manifesting within her (apparently charmed) dark green orbs. Though subtle, it was definitely there.

The ancient Sorting Hat droned it's sorting song before allocating each new first year its family for the upcoming seven years. Gryffindor guarded seventeen, Slytherin entrapped twelve, Ravenclaw achieved seven and Hufflepuff welcomed six.

Headmaster Dumbledore announced for the feast to begin and with a wave of his wand, luxurious mountains of food piled up the empty tables. Ron had taken two of whatever his grubby little hands could reach, Harry following though managing to eat with the slightest more grace than his best mate. Ginny, traditionally sticking to the reputation of Weasley, piled her food akin to Ron yet ate with propriety. The only one out of the quartet who ate with the elegance and grace that could rival every pureblood wizard was Hermione.

She did not pile copious amounts of food on her plate, nor did she pig out in front of an audience. She ate what was sufficient enough for her and her onlookers.

Biting into the chocolate cake with her fork, Hermione watched the Headmaster, her Head of House and the Sorting Hat engage themselves in a heated discussion muted by the loud voices of obnoxious students.

"Hermione Granger!" bellowed the ancient rag, prompting her into placing it on the top of her head, the sides acting as a barrier between the student body and herself.

'It is a pleasure to meet you again, Miss Granger.'

"Why have I been summoned? I presume that you have not called for me simply for a chat?" Hermione asked bluntly.

'Indeed not, clever witch. I have sensed a change in your personality rendering Gryffindor an unsuitable match any longer. The intellect and curiosity of Ravenclaw still burns passionately within you, and the Gryffindor courage is there for when the opportunity calls for it. Hufflepuff has never matched your persona, and it still does not despite your kindness, loyalty and good will.'

"And Slytherin?" she questioned intuitively.

'Miss Granger, Slytherin has always been one of the more befitting options though with the issue regarding your blood (Hermione scowled) I saw to it that Gryffindor would benefit you at the time, but no longer.'

"Why doesn't Gryffindor 'suit' me anymore?"

'I'm afraid I cannot divulge anymore information, clever witch. But if you truly live up to your title, you will figure it out soon enough and break the enchantment that was cast on you as a babe to prevent you from becoming your true self.'

"Enchantment? You mean I have been obliviated whilst I was a child?"

'Take yourself to your furthest memories, Miss Granger. You will discover the problem there.' "Slytherin!" the ragged hat yelled out to the brunette's disdain.

The student body present in the Great Hall watched in mortified silence as the bold red and gold of her tie and robes faded into a silky green and silver. Hermione clenched her jaw at the betraying glares thrown at her from majority of her former house and the radiation of disgust emitting from the snakes.

Hermione could not fathom why her former house mates, her friends, were looking at her with malice. Mere moments ago she was one of them - a lioness - and had been for the previous four years. She was the one who aided them to achieving the house cup during the years, she was the one who helped them complete their homework when required, she was the one who earned points by answering questions in class.

She was also the one detested and lonely through majority of her first year. And it was although fate wanted to play a cruel game with her as it condemned her to the same blasted position again.

Deserted by the Gryffindors, detested by the Slytherins and completely, utterly alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the mix up, Hermione & her posse are starting their fifth year at Hogwarts.


	2. Chapter Two

Barely two weeks had passed and Hermione had lost far more people than she had gained. Ron, whom she once considered her best friend and a potential love interest, had not spoken a kind word to her since the resorting. He had made his disdainful opinions of her transparently clear alongside his mother who had sent a howler for her 'betraying treachery'.

Hermione loathed to admit that Molly's howler bothered her. She had looked up to the Weasley matriarch as a motherly figure, a weak attempt in filling the gaps drilled from the loss of her own and it seemed as though the month of September had it out to become an accurate reflection of Hermione's inner turmoil for the weather had remained a persistent, biting cold that crawled through the drafty walls of the archaic castle.

Dodging ridiculing hexes and nasty shoves were a few of the things that had become part of her daily routine. So much so that she found the spells tossed in her direction rather pathetic as with a lazy flick of her wand the spells collided into a shield of a great distance and was absorbed, transforming from energy that could harm her into energy she could draw and use. Despite her show of power, she still found herself trapped in a multifarious amount of silence in which she allowed herself to ponder over the pathetic excuses she had once called friends' behaviour towards her in the past and was utterly shocked at her negligence to the conspicuous, blatant usage of her. Or rather, her intelligence. It became apparent to her in those daunting moments of realisation that she did not manage to make true friends as she had longingly wished for during her dour elementary school career.

The children at her (muggle) primary school ostracised her during partnered work and recess, and some had even gone out of their way to call her a freak in the rare moments she was stood alone outside. At Hogwarts, Ron merely used her for homework when he required it and had seemed to remain borderline tolerant due to her affiliation with the famed Harry Potter. Hermione truly felt stupid as she berated herself for ever considering the red-headed prat as a potential love interest, let alone for her dark desire to have her repulsive romantic feelings reciprocated.

 _Honestly_ , Hermione thought with a huff, _how could have I been so naive?_

Her new house, Slytherin, ostracised her from any social or communal gathering despite their code of conduct stating to take care of their own. With menial complaints such as these, Hermione would have gone ahead to speak with Harry for advice, for he had had many encounters with accusations and ignorance; however, catching him alone had proven difficult as he was always surrounded by a group of Gryffindors acting as bodyguards.

It pissed her off.

She had seen the raven haired boys attempts in escaping the clan but found his efforts futile. And so, he had given up after a few days worth of trying and had settled for sending her small, discrete smiles or waves whenever they passed each other in the corridors.

It made Hermione's chest ache in pain that the boy whom she had helped so much, the boy whom she considered a brother, left her when she needed his companionship the most. And it wasn't as though she could talk to her Head of House about her complaints as his taunting, demeaning behaviour had not relented since joining his house. Despite her few attempts into coercing Professor McGonagall to help her, the witch had simply frowned and informed her "If you have any complaints, Miss Granger, I advise that you take it up with your Head of House."

 _Yeah, right_. She had internally scoffed.

Sighing, Hermione broke out of her sullen reverie when Professor Binns' monotonous drawl dismissed them from class. She had already studied the content being taught over the holidays having nothing better to do. After exiting the classroom, she cast a disillusionment charm over herself and trudged out of the castle in solitude.

She sat down near the waters edge of the Black Lake, silently watching the reflection of the snail-paced clouds in the water with a sense of lost longing wrenched deeply into her feelings. Hermione wanted to go home, but she couldn't pinpoint where home was if someone asked her. She had considered Hogwarts as her home previously, under the ostensible facade that she had true friends surrounding her, looking after her. But reality was cruel, finally allowing her to realise that the castle she grew to be familiar with was nothing different to the four walls and the roof that sat waiting for her arrival in the muggle world. The people inhabiting the buildings were heartless, merciless and all-too-ready to inflict inhumane amounts of suffering onto the knowledgeable girl.

A tear dropped.

"Get a grip, Granger." Hermione muttered under her breath. She steeled herself and stood up onto her feet, schooling her features into her habitual, expressionless countenance. She made her way to the seventh floor, avoiding the student body and the professors (particularly the irksome pink mushroom 'High Inquisitor').

She paced in front of the wall and pushed open the door that appeared. A cosy library had formed with books of all kinds. Some, the brunette could sense, were emitting strong radiations of dark, sinister magic. The collection was extensive, by far, than the Hogwarts library which she had come to forfeit after Ronald Weasley endeavoured to manipulate her into completing his homework for him again.

But she knew better now. This time, Hermione Granger would be the manipulator, and everyone else would play at her will; they were the puppets and she was finally going to be the puppeteer.  
  
  
  
  
  


//  
  
  
  
  
  


Hours had flown by, not that the immersed witch had noticed. The sun had set just over an hour ago and the grandfather clock rhythmically ticking in the corner of the room had begun to ring the bells to signify the hour of ten. The loud clanging snapped Hermione out of her research, prompting her to yawn and stretch like a well rested cat, though she was anything but.

The girl did not wish to return to the room housing her bullies and herself yet she had found herself with no other option. Of course, she could reside in the Room of Requirement but if word of her negligence to stay within her House spread, she could face expulsion and unnecessary question of where she had resided in the meantime. All of which she found no interest in going through with.

"Ouch!" Hermione yelped as something hard bounced off of her head. It landed on the table ahead of her with a clatter, compelling her to reach out and stroke its leather binding. "A diary..." she mused.

Something intoxicating tingled the tips of her fingers, a stable thrum of magic emitting from the dainty diary. She glanced at the bottom where three, faded words engraved in gold stood out prominently against the dark, leather covering of the book. _Tom. M. Riddle._ Wracking through her memory to search for the familiar name, Hermione blanched as memories from her second year were wielded into a spotlight.

Harry's duel against Malfoy. Harry speaking parseltongue. The Chamber of Secrets. The basilisk. The petrifications. Moaning Myrtle. Tom Riddle, or should she say, _Lord Voldemort._

"Found my diary, have you?" a soft voice questioned behind her.


	3. Chapter Three

The brunette sucked in a breath, squaring her shoulders and schooling her features before pivoting gracefully to face the unknown, sultry voice.

"What you hold is rather powerful, and fragile at that. Do be careful as you hold it." he reprimanded her lightly, his intense gaze locked on her rapidly paling knuckles as her fingers gripped the offending book harshly.

Hermione felt the urge to obey the handsome teenager, his commanding voice soothing despite them standing opposite each other on enemy lines- in this instance, the small table she had been previously perched upon.

"Tom Riddle, I presume?" Hermione cocked her head to the side, raising an eyebrow as the man elegantly took a seat at one end of the table, gesturing for her to follow suit. She did so whilst forcefully shoving her apprehension and fear to the back of her mind. This man was not someone to leave alone stray emotions.

"Obviously."

The two teens, one who looked to be in his sixth year and the other in her fifth, assessed each other. Familiar green eyes locked as they attempted to breach the opposite's occlumency walls.

"Occlumens, Miss Granger?" the wizard mused, a sly smirk twisting his lips. "At such a tender age too."

"Legilimens, Mister Riddle?" she mimicked, her demeanour pleasant yet hostile.

Tom smiled, revealing a perfect set of brilliant teeth. "An attitude too. That will be dealt with, no doubt. Why did you summon me?"

“The question is how did I summon you." she corrected, steepling her hands together over the table. "How did you know my name?"

At this, Tom's smile fell into a malicious smirk. "I assume you are familiar with a Miss Ginny Weasley?"

He didn't wait for her response.

"She told me plenty about you. Hermione - have I pronounced that correctly? - Granger the bushy haired know it all. Best friend to my arch nemesis Harry Potter who is also a mudblood proud of her heritage." he closed his eyes, hand outstretched as though trying to touch something intangible. "Your magic is powerful, Miss Granger. In capacities that is believed to be too much for a mudblood."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, glaring at the boy in front of her. Young dark lord or not, the boy had no rights to claim whether she could manage her power. "I'm quite sure they dubbed you as a powerful mudblood during your time as a student."

“Know of my past do you?" he replied amused.

Hermione nodded tersely, unwilling to offer any more information.

"Do tell." he probed, leaning back in his chair with comfortable elegance.

“Apologies, Mister Riddle. I will refrain from that given your expertise in the cruciatus curse. I do not feel the requirement to be subjected to such pain tonight." she said politely, keeping her expression neutral despite her instincts yelling at her to flee.

"How disappointing." he tsked unimpressed. "I could curse you for not answering my command."

Hermione bit back a snort. "You are nothing but a shadow of your teenage self trapped in a diary." Then she remembered. "How are you here anyway?"

"What ever do you mean, Miss Granger?"

"This diary was destroyed." she deadpanned, holding the said book in her hands. "In the chamber of secrets three years ago, Harry destroyed it."

Tom finally looked away from his diary, a psychotic smirk twisting his lips. "Oh my dear, your beloved Harry Potter destroyed a diary, yes. But he did not destroy my diary." he stood up, flattening any wrinkles on his enviously immaculate (yet old) slytherin uniform."Keep my diary, I shall meet with you soon."

And then he disappeared with a ruffle of pages.

//

Sprawled in front of a determined witch, in an organised mess, was a myriad of books varying in information regarding a particular topic.

 _Animagi_. Or more specifically, how to become an _animagus_.

**_Step 1: Carry a single mandrake leaf in your mouth for a full lunar cycle._ **

"Easy enough." Hermione shrugged, placing the leaf she had stolen from the greenhouse into her mouth. It wasn't as though she spoke to many people - if any - anyways. Allowing her fellow slytherins to answer questions in class would hopefully prove to them just how much she had helped the house excel into the lead for the cup within the few weeks of her membership.

What she had not taken account for was the man currently hiding in her satchel beside her bed who wisely chose to appear the moment her mouth sealed itself shut. 

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" he sneered, his eyes flitting up and down her relaxed form.

The curly haired witch summoned a muggle pen she owned and a piece of spare parchment. _'What do you think?'_ she wrote.

"I strongly suggest you speak when answering, Miss Granger." he conjured himself a comfortable armchair for himself and sat regally - posture perfect with his hands twirling her wand that he had snatched as he strode.

Hermione shook her head. _'Can't if I want this to work.'_

The dark haired boy kissed his teeth. "Shame, for how long?"

_'One lunar cycle.'_

"And how do you plan on speaking in class?" he taunted, somehow knowing of her penchant for answering insufferably.

Hermione's countenance hardened. _'I don't.'_

Tom's eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "You don't? How unlike you, Miss Granger." he adjusted his position, leaning forward with his legs spread and hands steepled. "May I ask why you don't plan on using your wit in helping Slytherin succeed?"

A saccharine smile forced its way onto her lips. _'Why don't you ask your housemates descendants?'_

Tom replicated the smile, his eyes mocking and malicious. "You know I cannot, pet." 

He leaned forward, his spidery hand reaching to twirl a brunette curl around his fingers. Hermione's breath caught in her throat, the fear threatening to make an appearance through her eyes was firmly steeled and locked away in the back of her mind, a large distance away from the beginning of her occlumency walls.

She began writing again. _'I heard you wanted to become the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor but was rejected.'_

"That is true." he hummed absently, twirling another one of her frizzy locks. "I cursed the post until I was offered the job again."

_'Never happened though, did it?'_

"No." he licked his lips. "Why the sudden questions?"

_'Do you feel as though you are still adept in the subject?'_

He rolled his eyes. "What an inane question, Miss Granger."

She gave him a sarcastic smile. _'The curse is still in place, Your Highness. We haven't had a good DADA professor since third year and this year we have a bloody 'High Inquisitor' who believes practicum isn't required.'_

"The pink toad?" he recalled from one of her muttered rants.

Hermione's face soured. _'Yes.'_ she wrote before adding: _'Do you keep contact with your... original self?'_

"Not since the Chamber was opened, no. Why?"

_'So you don't know that you're now a bald, noseless serpent-human?'_

Tom's hand immediately reached for his nose. "Don't lie to me, Miss Granger. I'm not known for my mercy."

The witch rolled her eyes again. _'If you can teach me Defence, I will help you get your desired position.'_

"And what makes you think that I care for the position any longer?" he narrowed his eyes at her, intensifying his claustrophobic gaze.

_'I can think of a few, but I can also think that you'd want to become the next minister and have access to your chamber.'_

Hook.

His dexterous fingers stopped twirling the lock they were holding onto. Tom took a seat next to her on the edge of her bed. "Why should I waste my breath becoming minister when I can place one of my followers there?"

_'Why should you risk your followers fucking up something you could have accomplished so easily and swiftly?'_

Line.

He leaned back, allowing Hermione to release a soft sigh of relief. "Will I solely be teaching you or the rest of the inbred fools?"

_'Just me, Mr Riddle.'_

He smirked, and placed a pleasant-to-a-spectator kiss on her cheek. "Professor."

And Sinker.

"I shall see you on Monday, Miss Granger. Good luck with your animagi transformation, please do transform into something worthwhile. Preferably not a rat."

With a ruffle of pages, he had disappeared.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Amato Animo Animato Animagus!"

  
The weekend passed by quickly with Hermione choosing to stroll around the grounds of Hogwarts silently. She found brushing her teeth and eating quite the chore with the mandrake leaf settling into her mouth but she had learned to cope with spells and charming the elves into delivering softer, more molten food to her chambers.

Hogsmeade Weekend was approaching in a few weeks and the little witch sighed as she realised she would not be able to go due to the other rituals required to complete her transformation.

"At least I'll be able to sneak out whenever I'd like to then." she mumbled to herself.

Classes had resumed and Hermione was anticipating her first lesson with the infamous Tom Riddle. She paid little to no attention to the pink-obsessed toad and dutifully ignored the inquisitive, hateful (from the slytherins) stares that followed her through out the day. By nightfall, her reluctance to answering in class had spread amongst the student body and even her professors were sending her concerned glances whenever they could. Except Snape perhaps. He didn't seem to bat an eyelid in her direction though a frown was fixed upon his features.

It didn't matter anyways.

After swallowing the remnants of the food the elves had graciously sent her, Hermione sneaked to the Room of Requirement, - or the Come and Go room as Tom had called it - their assigned meeting space for practice.

She paced three times in front of the blank wall, asking for a place where she could practice practicum and study comfortably. Pushing open the door, she set her satchel down on the desk that had been conjured with a mini library behind. To her right there was a large empty space with cushioned floors, perhaps for duelling?

Hermione pulled out the familiar leather diary, brushing her fingers over the pages in a pattern that pulled the teen shade out. She waved politely once the boy greeted her with a firm nod.

"I've planned my lessons enough so that you requiring to speak is limited until that leaf is out of your mouth." he began, his robes billowing lightly behind his feet as he paced slowly in front of her desk. "Today I will be teaching you how to throw off the Imperius Curse, something that I have heard you were taught by one of my followers in your fourth year."

Hermione nodded once.

Tom gave a feral smile. "Lets begin." He took the witch's wand and pointed it at her forehead, "Imperio!"

Hermione felt her mind and senses overcome with a cloud of calm and tranquillity. _"Dance, Miss Granger."_ she heard a sultry voice almost whisper. The sound echoed through her mind, her fingers and toes twitching to find a tempo to move to.

She curled her fingers into a fist. Must resist.

 _"Come on, Miss Granger. Dance."_ she heard the voice again, though it sounded more like a hiss of a snake - more demanding.

Her feet began to shuffle awkwardly to a self-made beat. "D-danc-," she choked out with a lisp.

She bit her lip and imagined a fresh wave of cool water cleansing her mind of the intensely hazy fog. Her legs ceased to move and her fingers quit twitching.

"No." she said softly, her mind as clear as day. "I will not dance, but you can." she had snatched her wand back and was pointing the wooden stick at Tom. "Imperio."

 _Oh hey, my speech is improving,_ she noted with triumphant glee.

Hermione couldn't help the little smirk that tugged her pink lips as she observed how Tom's deep green eyes clouded over with a shiny sheen for no less than a total of ten seconds, before it disappeared and his orbs look brighter and clearer than before. "Nice try." He turned swiftly and pointed her wand at her forehead once again. "You need to become more resistant."

"A few rules first." Hermione interrupted, placing her hand over the tip of her wand. "Nothing undignifying or extreme."

"Nothing undignifying or extreme." he repeated with a small, unpromising smirk. "Imperio."

This time, Hermione felt the cool, dampness of the fog seeping into her mind. Before the mist could travel any further, she slammed down her occlumency walls, trying to test if it would withhold the power being driven into the unforgiveable.

And it did.

The mist attempted to breach her carefully constructed walls through any faults and cracks before abandoning the endeavour and slamming into the steel walls with brute force. A force that barely made a dent.

Hermione smiled condescendingly at Tom who raised an impressed eyebrow - a feat he would later claim to be as merely surprised rather than impressed. "It seems as though you have mastered the task quite easily, Miss Granger."

"Yes, I did." she said gleefully before rounding on him. "Why an unforgiveable? It's not part of the curriculum."

Tom scoffed. "Are you under the impression that unforgiveables won't be used in the war that is brewing, Miss Granger? That is rather naive of you."

"No I suspected as much, and if I am able to survive it I will undoubtedly have to use them myself." Hermione dismissed his insult. "My question is, will those spells be your primary focus?"

"Of course not, Miss Granger." he tutted. "I admit, I had been expecting to spend at the very least three days on defending yourself against the Imperius, though it is no problem to move onto the next task. Legilimency and Occlumency."

Hermione grimaced. "Is that really fair? You're a natural legilimens."

"Nothing is fair in war. It's every person for themselves when the situation comes to it, it's only the beliefs that are similar in nature." he reprimanded softly. "And by testing Legilimency you'll be allowing me to solidify any faults in my own defences which I have not used in quite a few years."

"Why not?"

"Nobody but myself held possession of this diary, my dear, that is until my apparently nose-less self chose to place it in the uncapable hands of a Weasley."

"Were your shields strong then?"

Tom shrugged casually, something about him making it look elegant. "Can't be truly sure until it's tested to it's limits. Ginny Weasley was far from even a beginner legilimens."

"She was a first year, Riddle."

He waved his hand dismissively. "I will see you here next week Hermione. Make sure to research the mind arts as divulging unprepared could leave you and I brain dead."

Tom took a step closer to the girl, twirling a curly lock of her hair in a similar manner he had done days ago. "Your colour is darker." he pointed out with mild surprise.

"I haven't charmed it, if that is what you are asking." her words came out strong, but inside she felt her nerves twisting. _Why was her hair darker and how had she not noticed?_

"No, I suspected as much." he hummed, assessing another lock. "It looks natural, inherited almost."

Hermione licked her chapped lips, watching as he disappeared. She picked up the black book and stuffed it at the bottom of her satchel before sneaking back into her slytherin dormitory.

"This lunar cycle needs to hurry the fuck up." she grumbled as she warded her bed curtains.

//  
  
  


Hermione's weekly rendezvous with Tom turned out to be beneficial and entertaining for both. More often than not they would argue about the theoretical reasoning behind certain spells and would almost always come to a stalemate in which neither stubborn student wished to surrender.

The lunar cycle had finished and the witch's mandrake leaf was hidden away in a dark closet in the room of requirement. She had dutifully been adding a silver teaspoon of dew from a place that neither sunlight nor human feet have touched for seven days. She then added the chrysalis of a Death's-head Hawk Moth from which she snatched from deep within the Forbidden Forest.

Now she was waiting for the electrical storm to arrive. It was predicted to cause chaos tonight and she, along with any other aspiring-to-be animagi, were on their nerves edges as they felt a painful burn slowly increase in intensity.

When nightfall came, Hermione sprinted to the Forbidden Forest, camouflaging herself with the protection of the magical trees. The first strike of purple lightning illuminated the black sky, bringing a powerful, torrential rainfall with its hind. The witch placed her wand tip to her heart, chanting "Amato Animo Animato Animagus!" incessantly. She felt her heart pound within her chest, her breaths becoming laboured and painful as she felt another pulse pushing against her chest harshly.

 _Snap_.

Hermione collapsed to the ground as her legs bent in unusual directions. Her hands curled around drenched leaves that lay previously undisturbed on the forest floor.

 _Crack_.

A howl of pain released from the back of her throat as her spine lengthened, shortened, twisted and curved.

 _Hiss_.

She felt her tongue lengthen and split at the tip as scales began replacing her soft, human skin.

The cold downpour had ceased and Hermione's transformation had completed. Her senses had heightened significantly in her animagus form, particularly in her tongue. She traversed across the damp ground, the smell of rotting leaves and rain lingering heavily in the midnight air. Stopping by a little stream, Hermione bent her head down and touched the tip of her fork-tongue to the icy water, relishing in the comfort it brought once her thirst had been quenched.

She looked at her reflection, hissing in approval at the dark scales and her large form. Though the loss of opposable thumbs would be difficult, she supposed her venomous bite would make up for it. Hemione was thoroughly pleased that her rational, eidetic memory remained in her new form.

The night passed easily, the transformation ending as soon as the first rays of the sun broke the horizon. Hermione reverted back to her human body in the centre of the forest, shivering madly at the biting cold as her naked form searched for her charmed beaded bag and wand. Once located, she snuck through the desolate corridors of the drafty castle after dressing herself securely. Leaving the taps to fill the tub with scalding hot water, Hermione silently took her uniform from her trunk, hiding Tom's diary from view underneath her clothes as she brought it to the Prefect's bathroom. 

Sliding into the warm water, she began scrubbing away the dirt and leaves that had attached themselves to her body with a soft sponge. She cleansed herself free of the gravel and twigs that had been tangled within the nest of her darkening hair and lathered on her favourite scented soaps. 

Hermione reached over to the diary laying peacefully by her satchel, it's dark essence thrumming contently as she drew the shade inhabiting it with the pattern. Making sure her body was completely hidden under the barrage of bubbles, she greeted Tom with a friendly smile - the first time she had done since last year. "Morning, Tom."

"Goodmorning, Hermione." he greeted back pleasantly. "I'm assuming the transformation went well?"

"You assume correctly." she confirmed. "Guess what my animagus form is."

Tom raised an amused eyebrow. "An otter?"

Hermione screwed her face in disbelief. "I am _nothing_ like a bloody otter!"

"Could've fooled me." he shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "Fine, a cat?"

"Nope."

"What then?"

"What was your first unofficial pet?"

"A... garden snake?" Tom asked, his eyes widening a fraction before returning to their usual nonchalance.

"King Cobra." Hermione grinned, her tongue sliding over her bared teeth. "I can still taste a bit of venom and my tongue has an almost unnoticeable split at the end."

"Wouldn't you be dying by digesting the venom?" he drawled unamused, though she could make the flicker of worry passing in his green eyes.

"It's produced by me like saliva, so I'm immune." she explained, "Others though... that's another story." she tilted her head to the side, droplets of water falling from her curls. "Have you ever noticed we have similar eyes?"

"Green is not a rare colour, Hermione."

The witch rolled her eyes. "I know that, but you have silver streaks in your eyes like I do. Do you know why?"

At this, Tom moved closer to assess the swirls of pale colour, his eyes never flitting away from her face. "Hmm. That is strange. First the hair and now the eyes, what else?"

It was silent as Tom turned around to give Hermione privacy to change. 

"I think this week's lesson will have to be postponed. I need to ask you something."

Tom nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii, don't forget to leave a comment and Kudos! :)


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> '..."Remind me to crucio you for that." Tom said half heartedly...'

"You were head boy weren't you?" Hermione asked as she skimmed through the tome placed in her lap. 

"What gave it away?" Tom said, sarcasm practically oozing off of every word as the slytherin head badge gleamed in the winter sun.

The witch rolled her eyes, swallowing back the temptation to deliver a hard punch. "Did you have a picture taken?"

"Yes I did, why?"

"I can't find a single Tom Riddle in this book." she held it up, revealing the tome that contained the names of all previous and present prefects and heads. "There's not even a mention of a Tom Riddle either. It's as though there was only a Head Girl, Angelina Abbott, in 1945."

Tom's eyebrows creased, a petulant expression forming on his well-constructed face. "Not even a mention that I got the same amount of N.E.W.T.S. as Dumbleydork?"

"Nothing." Hermione responded before adding coolly, "Naturally, I shall be endeavouring to beat the both of your scores and I will succeed."

"Naturally," the boy drawled whilst observing his nails, "Though I guess to stop that I shall have to completely abandon teaching you." 

Hermione scowled. "Don't be petty."

"But Hermione!" Tom turned to face her, a predatory smirk playing on his lips, "Those grades are all I have left to my name, and I'll be damned if I let my own student excel me."

A metaphorical lightbulb switched on and gleamed brightly inside her mind. "That's it!"

"What?"

"That's all you have left to your name-"

"I know I'm not exactly wealthy but-"

"Shut up and let me finish." she chastised lightly before continuing, "Without a mention in this book, Tom Riddle is nothing but a memory that will eventually fade as your classmates pass away. We know Dumbledore is planning on ending Vold- _him_ permanently and by removing your name from anything tangible, it'll be as though Tom Marvolo Riddle never existed."

"Why won't you say his name fully? Wasn't it you that said fear of a name increases the fear of the thing itself?"

"Yes and no, I'm not afraid of him. I just wouldn't put it past for someone of such wasted, high intellect to not put a taboo." Hermione explained her theory. She didn't know for sure but there had to be a far greater reason than simple fear as to why the wizarding world had opted for calling him You-Know-Who instead of Voldemort.

"That does sound like something I would do." Tom hummed. "So you think dumbles is trying to make me disappear?"

Hermione nodded. "Why does he hate you so much? He had the opportunity to be your mentor but he threw that away for what?"

Tom's countenance hardened. "Because of my heritage." His voice was smooth and level. "Anything Slytherin is a threat to him and the heir to the house? That makes you his arch-nemesis by default."

The brunette witch watched the shade with calculating eyes, observing how his jaw clenched and his eyes glassed over with the thinnest veil of tears. If not paying scrutinising attention, one would never notice the longing the orphan boy had at the loss of a proper childhood. "You looked up to him." she concluded.

"Of course I did." he said bitterly. "You probably still look up to the professor that introduced you to this world."

Hermione smiled faintly before shaking her head. "I only respected her enough. Then as the years went by she protected us but now I'm starting to realise she only did so for Harry. It reluctantly extended to me because we were thought of as a package deal." She sighed fiddled with the book. "But look on the bright side, you found out you weren't a muggleborn and you gained respect."

"Still a halfblood. That's practically treason to my lineage."

"If Merope Gaunt had married the man her father wished, Tom Riddle would have ended up with a weird name and genetically mortifying looks."

"They didn't look too bad they just-"

"Don't even try lying to yourself, Tom. Without that fresh blood running in your veins you would be far more insane than you already are and significantly less intelligent."

Tom remained silent, mulling over her words. It truly was a strange phenomenon; how the young dark lord heeded and took the little mudblood witch's words with insurmountable consideration. It was something he had not done with his closest follower - Abraxas Malfoy. 

"Have you ever experimented with parselmagic?" Hermione asked airily as her fingers curled around a smooth stone she had picked from the sandy ground. She leaned back and, with as much force as she could muster, hurled the pebble towards the undisturbed water of the Black Lake. She smiled lightly when she heard a faint splash. "Damn. Didn't know I could throw that far."

"Never had the chance to with Dumbledore watching my every move." Tom denied the offer to throw a rock of his own, claiming it was an inappropriate act to do so in public.

"You're just embarrassed that you can't throw as far as me." Hermione teased with a proud smirk. 

"Oh, please." he scoffed. "I'm not a child and I can definitely throw further than you. I am a man after all."

"No, you're a teenaged boy."

"Still a male."

"Your pelvic anatomy does not dictate your strength you sexist pi-" Hermione paused. "Well I guess in the interwar era it did but no longer. It's almost the twenty first century and things have changed significantly."

"Have they really?" Tom pressed, raising a naturally perfect eyebrow.

"In the muggle world at least." she sighed. "We still need to talk about something."

"About what?"

The witch took a deep breath. "In my resorting, the hat said something about a spell being placed on me as I was a child. It's suppressing some part of my brain and power."

"Yes, I did notice something there during our legilimency lessons. It was like a thick, impenetrable mist guarding something." His thoughtful look turned into an evil smirk. "Let's hope it's not another brain, otherwise I'll be forced to wrap it in one of my own suppressing spells."

Hermione smacked him with her book. "Jealous." she muttered.

"Remind me to crucio you for that." Tom said half heartedly whilst rubbing his abused arm. "Back to the problem, you will need a dark seer to remove that blocking spell."

"Why dark?"

"Because, my dear, that block is nothing like a light 'obliviate'. It's stronger and potentially the work of Dumbledore - something which will take a painfully long time for me to undo using legilimency. Seers are born on similar frequencies as the mind whereas natural Legilimens' like myself have strength in offence."

Hermione grimaced, "I hate anything in relation with divination. My relationship with my divination professor is too far for asking favours such as this."

"I wouldn't ask - Trelawny is it? - anyway. She prophesised the prophecy between myself and Harry Potter and is under the protection of Dumbledore." Tom pursed his lips. "My recommendation would be any of the House of Lovegood. They can be quite... eccentric but they are powerful."

"The Lovegoods aren't dark though."

Tom smirked. "Surely you understand the power of underestimation."

Hermione paled. "Xenophilius Lovegood will support _him_?"

"Naturally, unless he chooses to rebel." the brunette wizard said calmly with malice lacing his tone.

"And what of his daughter?"

"Which house?"

"Ravenclaw."

"Perfect." he almost purred, reaching to twirl a dark lock of hers. "If she knows what is beneficial for her, she will join the dark as will most Ravenclaws."

"And what of me, Tom?" Hermione attempted to fix her mask in place, but the slight waver in her voice betrayed her worry. "I'm a muggleborn in Slytherin and a former Gryffindor. Where do I go?"

"You claim to be as smart as both Dumbledore and I. You will use that intelligence of yours to choose a side." his lips hovered over her temple. "My dear Hermione, I do hope you choose well."

He placed a gentle kiss on it.

//

Sleep didn't claim the brunette witch as it usually did. For some reason, the chill that lingered in the dungeons became a biting freeze. She had already cast an insurmountable number of heating charms yet her body refused to warm. She tightened the woollen covers around herself but the cold still managed to crawl in.

She wasn't alone, however.

The whole of Slytherin had huddled together in the common room, the furnace blazing as students attempted to find a seat as close as possible to it. All except her. Due to her lower status as a mudblood, she wasn't gifted the privilege of warmth. She was left to squirm and shiver.

Hermione glared at them but was pleased to know that not a single student would acknowledge her disappearance, so she left with her satchel and headed to the kitchens. Raising her hand to tickle the pear lightly, she noticed an unhealthy blue beginning to show. 

The portrait opened, revealing a fatigued elf swaying slightly from sleep. "Can Dobby do anything for Mistress?"

"I'm really sorry for waking you up at such an early hour-" It was nearing two in the morning. "But could I please have some hot water? That's all."

The elf's eyes were clear of sleep and was gazing at her ill form distraughtly. "Mistress is sick? Dobby will get hot chocolate and hot water. Oh Mistress-" he began rambling whilst rummaging threw a few pots and pans.

"No it's alright. Water is all-" the words died in her throat as a pan was flung in her direction followed by a withering glare. "Alright fine!"

Within moments a steaming mug of hot chocolate was hovering in front of her along with a muggle hot water bottle - to which Dobby said he could sense the futile warming charms and thought this would be more effective.

"You are an absolute life saver, Dobby. Thank you!" she hugged the elf who returned it with an awkward pat on the back. 

Much to his chagrin, she washed the plain mug with her wand and gave it to Dobby to put away - elves were very... selective on who is permitted to enter further than the foyer of the kitchen. Hermione then silently crept her way to the seventh floor, her winter robes bunched tightly around her chest. She paced in front of the wall. _'I need a warm place to sleep. I need a warm place to sleep. I need a warm place to sleep.'_ The door revealed a cosy bedroom with heating charms laced around and a roaring fire near the bed. 

Hermione hurriedly rid herself of her cloak and shoes, tossing them to the foot of the bed and clambered under the quilt. Though not as warm as she was hoping for, it was significantly hotter than her chamber in the Slytherin dormitories and her incessant shivering had ceased. Though it was a far cry from the heat of Gryffindor Tower, it was warm enough for her to close her eyes and drift into a light sleep where she could control both those she loathed and adored.

The tally on the former was significantly higher than the latter.


	6. Chapter Six

"Don't move." was the first thing she heard when she aroused from her slumber. Something hot and damp was placed on her forehead, warm droplets escaping from the source and sliding down the side of her face with little care.

"Tom?" she croaked, her voice hoarse and her jaw aching.

"Hush foolish girl. You're as blue as a fucking blueberry and look like you're about to throw up ice."

Hermione snorted - well.. attempted to anyway before she was lightly slapped on the mouth with a finger. 

"Your detrimental condition is worsening." Tom remarked as he cast another heating charm over the girl. "Next time you seek for someplace warm, go to The Chamber of Secrets - yes I know you know. I spent nights there during the winter when they ostracised me too." 

"Noted." she mumbled, snuggling into the quilt covers. "Christmas holidays are almost here. Where do you plan on staying?

Tom gave her an incredulous look. "I'm bound to this diary, dear." 

"I know." Hermione sniffled. "Do you want me to leave you in The Chamber?"

Tom rubbed his hand across his chin, a thoughtful expression disappearing as quickly as it had shown. "No, without the basilisk it'll be rather lonely. Besides, someone will have to look after your stupid self."

"Care for me already Riddle?" Hermione teased before sneezing.

"No, merely keeping you around until I find some use for you."

She rolled her eyes. "Good to know." Then she sat up, her curly hair a frizzy mess and her cheeks flushed from an upcoming fever. "Why aren't my own heating charms working on me?"

Tom pursed his lips, his hands fiddling with the ill girl's vine wand. "It's that block. I think it might slowly be draining your magic."

"What?!"

He nodded once in affirmation. "You must call for the Lovegood witch now before the process speeds up and leaves you a squib."

Hermione groaned but wrote on a piece of paper charmed to only open in the hands of Luna Lovegood. She sent it away and waited patiently until the eccentric witch arrived. Upon hearing the door to the Room open, Tom hid himself within the pages of his diary and opted to spy through the parchment. 

"Hermione! You are certainly attracting the nargles." She began waving her hand around the brunette's mane of hair only to be stopped by the girl.

"Luna, it's lovely to see you. I have a question." she greeted with a weak smile.

The blonde's silence urged her to continue.

"Luna are your family seers by any chance?"

The ravenclaw girl hummed as she thought, "I think so. I remember my grandmama telling me how she could predict the future."

"Perfect! Do you think you could try a little spell on me?"

"What spell?" the girl asked pensively though she was reaching for her wand.

"I need you to go to the back of my mind and remove a suppressing charm." Hermione explained what she and Tom had discovered, purposefully leaving his name out despite the girl's acknowledgement of the shade. 

"He's rather handsome that boy you walk with." she had chirped airily before shaking her head to rid herself of thoughts Hermione rather not guess. She pointed her wand at the bridge of the brunettes nose, muttering a spell in a foreign and unequivocally dead language.

Hermione grit her teeth together as she felt an immense pressure pushing against her mind. She was thoroughly pleased that the fifth year girl did not linger in any of her memories longer than necessary - many were far from pleasant. Then, a strong fiery burn of intense pain washed over her, causing the girl to break out into a sweat that did nothing to calm herself. She felt something prodding the an impenetrable door.

Luna had easily passed through memories and landed upon the same white mist Tom had found weeks ago. At first she tried pushing her hand through, treating the ominous cloud as though it were a door. A silly attempt but an attempt non-the-less. 

Next she threw in a minor slicing hex her father had taught her. She ducked with barely a second to spare as it reflected and claimed a small lock of her hair. 

"Hmm." she huffed before closing her eyes. She could hear her grandmama's stories reverberating in the depths of her conscious - her words were jumbled and muffled. Luna felt her feet take slow, delicate steps upon their own accord and with each step a new word became clearer.

It wasn't until she had passed through the thick fog that she realised those word were a spell, not a story. It was the spell she could use to destroy this memory and power block - but first she wanted to explore.

Luna opened her eyes and found a large orb of gleaming light trapped in a glass pedestal. She couldn't get any closer, nor did she have to. From here she could feel the essence of Hermione's raw, infuriated essence. Part of it anyway. 

If she tore down the mist, the pedestal would shatter and the suppressed magic would return to its core with a hunger for vengeance, something Luna believed to have already been embedded within the brunette witch's mind. Hermione would be a very powerful witch. She could potentially tip the victory scale to her desired side by joining them and with her intellect and power, she would be almost unbeatable. 

Luna would have to make sure she convinced her father to follow the path of Brightest Witch of the Age regardless of the political propaganda being hurled out by the Order and the Death Eaters. 

She quickly cast a light spell to discover the magical signature of the caster of the block. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." she muttered as she decoded the swirly curved magic.

" _Distruge semnătura, distruge blocul, eliberați puterea, eliberați furia_." Luna chanted three times, pronouncing each syllable the way she heard her grandmama speak in her own head. Her wand arm moved instinctively, connecting to a frequency she had not known to exist.

Electric would be how she would describe it. Bolts of lilac lightning shot out of her wand and crackled around her blonde hair. Hermione's angered essence began glowing brighter as the infuriated magic penetrated and split the thick mist. The floaty whisps of white tried recovering but to no avail for every time it joined back together, it was split apart again by another sharp bolt of lilac.

A bright, white light enveloped her and the cloudy room, prompting the seer descendant to hide her blue eyes behind her dark Ravenclaw robe. She felt light feather-like material falling onto her frame, highly akin to snow but without the cool chill it usually brought. The white fluff dampened wherever it touched and it felt as though she was standing in the centre of a cloud.

She was thrusted out of Hermione's mind with a large push and a deafening crack.

//

The two young witches both revived with obnoxious intakes of breath. Tom immediately sat up, his posture stiff and perfect as he observed Luna Lovegood come to her bearings once again. 

"Well that was rather odd, wasn't it?" she commented airily, her light blonde hair matted to her forehead with sweat and her breathing slightly laboured.

Hermione merely managed a weak nod. 

"Did you find it?" the dark haired wizard asked, his countenance schooled to its usual impassiveness. 

"Oh, yes. The magical signature was definitely Albus Dumbledore's, it's committed to my memory as proof." she turned to Hermione, "It seems the nargles were only attracted to his aura, they've completely deserted you know, Hermione."

The girl smiled and agreed politely, her mind far too occupied processing the sudden heightened power behind her magic. For the first time, she felt free within herself. Despite having felt powerful and capable in her previous years as a witch, she could almost feel her raw essence - as though the extension of a wand was no longer necessary and her magic was tangible. Her new unlocked powers were not visible through her appearance. No, her physique had remained the same without an inch being added or taken to help her petite body adjust to the increase; but the striking, silver streaks in her eyes had intensified. Now, instead of having a Notice-Me-Not effect, simply locking gazes would entrance the other with their hypnotic swirls of malice.

She swallowed thickly, "Thank you, Luna. Is there anything you would be needing in return?"

The light blonde remained silent as she contemplated over her next words. As a fourth year seer descendent, her voice of choice could very well change the way the future morphed. "Pick a side," she finally said, "And make sure they win."

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. "This war is inevitable, isn't it?"

"Not necessarily." Luna's tone had taken an absent tone, further than her usual eccentricity and her eyes had glazed over witha translucent mist - a clear sign that one of her inherited seer powers was making itself known. "The House of Lovegood will stand by you, Hermione Jean, for you play a crucial role in the upcoming events. _The half raised by the impure will't find the truth. One will fall from false grace, one will rise from the states of poverty. Enemy lines shall be drawn'th in places one does not desire. It can be harsh or it may be movement._ "

Her eyes cleared and her voice returned to its normal, breezy state. "What just happened?"

Tom and Hermione glanced at each other apprehensively.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for the late update. I was completely stumped on what to do with this chapter lmfao.

Tom stared at the sleeping form of the suppressed witch. He tilted his head and analysed her darkened hair and pale skin. "I wonder," he murmured as he tentatively reached out to caress her soft cheek with the lightest of touches, "Why do you begin to look so much like myself, Hermione Granger?"

He sat on her bed, tangling his fingers within the monstrosity she had yet to tame when she stirred. "Good morning, Hermione."

"Morning?" the girl replied confused.

Tom nodded once. 

"Fuck." she cursed, tumbling out of the warmth of the bed. "The train leaves at eight, what time is it?" Upon noticing his blank stare she groaned and cast the Tempus charm. "An hour left. You need to decide where you want to stay for the remainder of the holidays."

"Do you know Abraxas Malfoy's son, Lucius?"

Hermione stilled, her posture shifting defensively at the mention of her tormentor's predecessor. "Know of him. Why?" she asked coldly.

"I need to get into Malfoy Manor."

"And how do you suppose I do that? I'm not exactly on friendly terms with the Malfoy heir." Hermione snarled at the indirect mention to her de facto lead tormentor. 

"You're a smart witch, Hermione." Tom held her steady gaze, "Use that brain of yours." 

///

The train journey had been tedious with the lack of company entertaining her. Surprisingly, Hermione couldn't even commit to her usual comfort characters without breaking off to rehearse the impending conversation she would have with Lord Malfoy.

She had yet to pass greeting him with his title without scoffing.

Tom had not returned from his diary, claiming to be saving his energy for a draining conversation he would be having in Malfoy Manor; but now as she disembarked from the scarlet vessel, the pleasant yet unequivocally dark presence of his surfacing aura thrummed almost excitedly in her jacket pocket. 

Hermione scanned the crowded platform, pushing past families roughly as she hastily made her way towards the apparation point where a regal couple were waiting impatiently with a mask of disdain tainting their aristocratic features. She followed Draco stealthily, observing from an unnoticeably close distance as the Malfoy matriarch - whom she recognised as Narcissa Black - conversed pleasantly before whisking her son away from the ever-busying station. 

Lucius was scanning the crowd with a sneer. 

She stood in front of him, clearing her throat delicately to capture his attention.

His eye twitched, "To what do I owe the pleasure Miss...?"

"Granger, sir."

Hermione watched as his lips curled into a disgusted snarl. "Ah, the Mudblood extraordinaire." 

She bit her lip in order to refrain from spewing the insults being harboured on her tongue. Instead, she focused her intent on casting a wandless, silent muffliato. "Please, sir, refrain from using such vile terms. I have a... delivery of sorts."

Her casual display of power did not go unnoticed by Lucius. "What delivery?" he asked snippily.

Hermione removed the leather diary from her pocket and held it in between them for him to take. "Be sure this is taken to Abraxas Malfoy immediately and remind him that this is simply a shade of his dear friend, not the man himself." her tone was clipped yet her exterior remained pleasant. "I'd be haste if I were you, the man can be rather temperamental at times." Then, she turned on her heel and exited the magical platform through the brick wall, accidentally crashing into her awaiting father.

"Dad!" she didn't bother apologising if the angered expression on his face suggested anything. 

"Let's go." he said coldly, walking away from the tense girl towards her mother's newly bought BMW.

She hesitantly took a seat, fumbling with her shrunken trunk in her pocket after clipping the seatbelt in. An awkward silence imbued over the once loving family. As a child she had always loved long drives - particularly ones at night with her parents - when they would speak freely about anything worth debating over; however, now their conversations were stilted. As though the opening sentences had been crafted beforehand like an essay. The dynamics between the small family had changed drastically since her acceptance into Hogwarts.

Upon parking haphazardly on the street, Richard Granger was fast in removing Crookshanks' cage from the vehicle, placing it down on the sheltered porch before returning to the car. 

Her two parents glanced at each other before nodding minutely. "Hermione we were going to inform you but we had nothing to send the letter with." her mother started.

"We are opening a new branch of our practice abroad and... with your holidays only lasting a week, we don't see a reason for you to come-"

Hermione broke into a hysterical fit of giggles. "Just come out with it, _Dad_." she spat. "You nor Mum want to be associated with me so you're deciding to leave."

Jean hesitated. "Uh, yes."

"And where do you suppose I should live whilst you leave on this tryst of yours?"

Richard dropped a bundle of keys into her lap. "The house, the savings we have deposited in your bank account and this car is yours. Getting yourself a driving license won't be a difficult feat for you, I'm sure."

Hermione swallowed thickly. Internally she had been desperately hoping that they would turn around and claim that it was a silly little April Fools prank, but she knew the likeliness of that happening was slim. First of all, the first of April was four months away and secondly, her parents never were one for such serious jokes as this. 

"How long?" her voice cracked.

"How long what, Hermione?" her mother- Jean asked.

"How long have you been planning this and how long are you going to be in the continent?" her eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

Richard stared blankly at her whilst Jean had the gall to look ashamed. "Since your first Hogwarts letter." he deadpanned coldly.

"We'll be staying in Brisbane for the foreseeable future."

Hermione sighed shakily, biting her tongue harshly to choke back a betraying sob. It drew blood, tainting her taste buds with the unpleasant, coppery taste.

"Are you even my parents?" she asked with a voice so broken Jean couldn't help but release a sob of her own.

"No, but-" the dark haired witch glared at the woman, silencing her with her intense gaze. She removed her wand from her holster in her right sleeve, pointing it threateningly at her parents.

" _Obliviate_." she whispered forcefully.

///

Lucius was sat in his study. _How dare that mudblood bint order him around as though he were some pawn,_ he seethed.

He had checked the journal using ancient, family rituals. There was something off about the book, he had decided, and he'll be damned if he allows his father to die at that mudblood's behest. 

The results were negative with every spell and potion he inflicted upon the poor pages. Pages that should have had some form of ink on them, pages that should have burned or at least stained through the many liquids they had been submerged in. 

Yet, nothing.

It was only when he brought the topic of an indestructible diary up to his father that Abraxas Malfoy snatched the leather bound book from his loose grip and dismissed him promptly. Though his urge to sate his curiosity was powerful, Lucius knew to never cross paths with something his father had set his eyes on. So he returned to his shared chambers with Narcissa, opting to occupy his time with listening to his stunning wife emit sensual sounds from beneath him.

Abraxas, however, studied the diary in his lap carefully. He trailed a long, wrinkly finger down the spine, shuddering at the familiar aura emitting from the book as he spun in his chair thoughtfully.

"Abraxas Malfoy." he heard a familiar, domineering voice. 

The blonde looked up, eyes widening in shock as his mind registered his supposedly lost handsome friend. "Tom?!" he whispered in disbelief.

"The one of seven and only."

Abraxas rolled his eyes at the horrible pun before grinning at his schoolmate. "How are you here looking like that? The last I saw of you, you were noseless and snake-like."

Tom absently reached for his nose. "So I have been told many times." he sighed, "Abraxas I need you - or one of your descendants given your aged condition - to find a ritual that I can use to restore this body."

"Tom you know that is impossible."

"What happened to 'with old age comes wisdom'?" the boy huffed.

Abraxas chuckled, "The wisdom here is that it is impossible."

Tom clenched his jaw, "And perhaps I find it to be possible, what should I do with you then?"

"You can't do anything yet, Tom. You are simply a shade, are you not?"

The dark haired wizard smirked, reaching his hand out to trace his friend's once-defined features with a gentle touch. "Oh, Abraxas." he said softly before straightening, "If you are going to be of little use then I require an arrangement for Miss Granger to come and stay here."

"Granger? The mudblood witch Draco-"

"-is always complaining about." he finished off half-heartedly. "Yes, yes. That very one. You know, I wouldn't be surprised if they were soulmates at this point with the amount they argue." he added conversationally.

"Fine." Abraxas said, attempting to supress his shudder at the thought of a muggleborn being mated to the heir of his pure house. "I'll send the invite."

"And Tom?"

"Hmm?"

"It's nice to see you again," the greying blonde smiled, "Even if you're threatening to crucio me at such a fragile age, I mean come on-"

Tom smirked and shook his head fondly. Abraxas had always been his favourite.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry for the long wait. Things are a bit hectic with school opening and then sending year groups home due to covid :/  
> Writing this took a lot longer than anticipated but hopefully I will be able to stick to my regular Tuesday updates. Thanks for waiting.

Hermione wanted Tom. It was as simple as that. She wanted his alarmingly cold fingers to twirl around her curls in that annoyingly soothing manner of his. She wanted him to kiss her forehead proudly like whenever she accomplished something particularly arduous. Or maybe she wanted Richard. _After all_ , Hermione conceded, _he had been the one to raise her alongside Jean_. He had been the one to scare away the monsters lurking underneath her bed and inside her wardrobe. He had been the one to read her grilling bedtime stories that his wife would thoroughly refuse, claiming "such putrid imagery and wording was best left till she was older". 

But they weren't her parents, and if they weren't, who was?

It wouldn't take Einstein to acknowledge the resemblance between her changing form and the horcrux shade she was rapidly beginning to care for. 

Hermione shuddered at the realisation that she was beginning to care for _Voldemort_. A hissing snicker escaped her swollen lips.

Her adoptive parents' departure had not ended well for the fifth year girl for she had accidentally stumbled - quite literally - over their personal stash of expensive alcohol as she was thrashing their room in a fit of rage. Her magic's unbalanced intensity caused a vigorous explosion as her occlumency shields collapsed like a dam, releasing a storm surge of emotions and tears which did little to diminish her fury.

Hermione wanted _Jean_ to calm her down by distracting herself from her feelings with pragmatic debates that would allow her to forget the reason that caused her dormant chemicals to overpower her strong willpower. She was ready to leap out of the bed she had curled herself on top of to track the bloody woman down until she realised with another laboured breath that she was crying over them on _their_ bed.

The quiet padding of her familiar gradually increased in volume as the ginger cat peered into the destroyed room with his mistress inside. He leaped onto the ruffled quilts and settled on the distraught witch's lap, purring into her thigh as a form of consolation and care that he showed for nobody but her. And Tom. Only Hermione and Tom.

He didn't like that Hermione's animagus form was a snake and not another kitty for him to play with, and even though snakes scared him till his whiskers were stiff and the fur on his back was stood up static, he knew that the venom dripping from her snake form's fangs were never going to be aimed at him. The blonde ferret on the other hand? Well, Crooks would help his snake mistress in removing him with his claws.

"What did I do wrong?" Hermione wondered aloud, her throat sore and scratchy from her cathartic screaming fit. "Why can't my happiness ever last, Crooks?"

The part-kneazle purred when her fingers, damp from wiping away the shameful tears that managed to escape, gently scratched his furry belly. The witch looked down at him with glassy, red-rimmed eyes. "At least you'll never leave me, right?"

Crookshanks purred loudly, as though he was agreeing.

Hermione sniffled and waved her hand in a circular motion, watching with detached interest everything that had been destroyed return to its original, normal state. She was grateful for having Tom help strengthen her wandless abilities, for she would not have had an inkling of knowledge on how to fix the mess she had created without the traced wood. 

_"Your wand is a tangible outlet, Hermione." he said, twirling her vine wood wand around his pale fingers. "It allows you to focus in directing your magic through it, thus allowing the ministry to keep a track of you."_

_"Wandless, however," he continued, pacing as a lecturer would around the room of requirement, "works solely on your intent."_

_"Like accidental magic?"_

_"Precisely." he smirked. "Tell me a story about one of your uses of accidental magic."_

_"Erm," Hermione hesitated, racking her brain for the simplest she could find, "Once, this boy was about to cut a bit of my hair with scissors in primary school and I remember desperately wanting for the him to go bald for even_ thinking _about touching mine. It was all so fast but once the scissors were close to me, they rose up and sliced a good chunk off, leaving a rather hideous bald patch."_

_"Interesting." Tom hummed. "Your intent was powerful, but not enough so for your magic to completely abide to your will. I assume your emotions came in the way?"_

_"Well- I... uh, I guess?" Hermione grimaced. "I did feel slightly guilty when it happened."_

_Tom stared at her impassively for a few moments before scoffing. "_ Women _. Always letting their emotions control them."_

Hermione nearly chuckled humourlessly as her eyes flitted around the tidy room. _Imagine Tom's reaction if he'd have walked in that tornado earlier._

She sighed, tired after her violent catharsis and hungry after having skipped both breakfast and lunch. Disregarding her fatigue, Hermione tied her hair up into a messy bun and scoured the kitchen cabinets for something microwaveable. Finally landing on some pot noodles, she settled herself in front of the TV, ensuring that the magical wards around her house were still impenetrable. 

Perhaps using blood wards would be more appropriate, she thought absently as she removed the steaming bowl from the microwave. The TV switched on, an array of bright and vivid colours brightening the dull room momentarily, before settling into a bluish-white hue.

Hermione suppressed the tears threatening to spill once again, instead choosing to focus on the rivalry between the Houses of Capulet and Montague.

//

A quiet tapping on the glass pane of the window woke Hermione from her accidental slumber. Switching the TV off, she stumbled over and pushed open the drapes, a small bowl of owl treats still sitting there from the last time she had stayed. 

A regal, black eagle flew in graciously, perching on her awaiting arm with a hoot. Hermione removed the parchment from it's leg, gesturing for it to have a nibble at the bowl upon noticing it's piercing gaze.

A green tinted family crest, a large _M_ placed in the centre with a snake swirling around it and a peacock's feather hanging off of the top, wax seal held the parchment together. Each old pureblood family had a family crest significant to their own, this she recognised from the _Pureblood Directory_ was of the _Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy._

_-_

_**To Miss Hermione Granger,** _

_**You are cordially invited to visit with the members of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy and reside in the ancestral Malfoy Manor indefinitely. This parchment is your portkey into the Manor. Press your wand to the parchment and say 'Portus' when you are ready. If unavailability is present, grant us with the common decency of a reminder ahead of time.** _

_**Elder Abraxas Septimus Malfoy** _

**_P.S: Tom asked for me to send this invite, why is a fifth year girl consorting with the bloody Dark Lord?_ **

**_-_ **

Hermione snorted. "I don't know either Mister Malfoy."

She looked around her room with an unimpressed click of her tongue. Waving her hand, she smiled as the pleasant scent of lavender wafted around and the mess she had created merely by sleeping had been fixed and cleaned. Showering hastily, Hermione readied herself in simple black robes, the feel for being festive evading her. Grabbing her unpacked school trunk, she quickly shut off the gas and electricity supplies due to the uncertainty of her return and waved off the eagle that hooted as it left.

She pressed her wand to the parchment and followed through the instructions. An overwhelming pressure yanked her navel, spinning her into a vortex of air until she landed ungracefully on her front with a loud groan. 

Catching her breath, Hermione heaved her body into a standing position as two platinum blonde males and one infuriatingly smug brunette apparated behind the blood warded gates. She looked at Draco and kissed her teeth, "You're definitely not Elder Malfoy." so she turned to the significantly older looking man and plastered on a charming smile, "Thank you for your invite, sir."

"No problem at all, Miss Granger. Tom has been-"

"-waiting for you to bloody greet him." the brunette sneered, "Honestly, Hermione, I was expecting better from you,"

"Did it ever cross your mind that I simply do not care, Tom?" she responded serenely, stepping through the wards once the gate opened.

Though rumours had it that most pureblood ancestral wards had anti-muggleborn defences, she hadn't expected to keel over in pain as soon as both of her feet touched the lavish cobblestone on the other side. What neither Malfoy had expected was for Draco to collapse beside her, clutching his head in pain as he curled into himself.

Two cracks sounded behind them, revealing the Lord and Lady of the Manor. They rushed to their son's side, Narcissa stroking Draco's cheek tenderly as a knowing smile flitted over her lips. She then crouched beside Hermione's trembling form, prying the girl's eyes open to look at her glassy green orbs.

The silver had intensified, almost smothering the inherited green as it glowed in the presence of such a concentrated amount of ancient, familial magic.

Tom kneeled beside her, a questioning glare demanding for answers.

Narcissa smiled and took the girl's warm hand in her own. "It seems as though my Draco has found his _Malfoy Mate._ "


	9. Chapter Nine

“Oh goody, you’re awake.” she heard a familiar voice comment as her eyes fluttered open and shut as they adjusted to the bright lighting.

“What happened?” she asked, confused at the grinning face of the Malfoy Elder and Matriarch, the contemplative expression on Tom’s and the confused countenance of Draco’s.

“Well,” Narcissa began softly, taking her hand between hers, “When you stepped through the gate your magic—“

“You’re _Malfoy Mates_!” Abraxas interjected with a hint of a squeal.

Narcissa grimaced. “Wasn’t the way I was going to tell you, but yes. You and Draco are Malfoy Mates.”

“What exactly is a Malfoy Mate?” she asked, carefully avoiding locking gazes with the youngest Malfoy.

“Soulmates for the family of Malfoy — yes, I know, sounds quite conceited doesn’t it?” the half brunette-blonde woman giggled lightly before continuing, “Basically, you have Malfoy Magic running within you as well as your own. All of the magical properties and artefacts of Malfoy respond to you as the next rightful Lady Malfoy.”

Hermione’s jaw had dropped as she soaked in the details. “Then what’s this silver thing in my eye?”

“Oh, that? That’s just a small feature indicating your extra familial magic. It’s either silver eyes or streaks of blonde hair like mine.”

Draco cleared his throat and glared accusingly at his parents, “And why wasn’t I informed of this? You know, as the _only heir to Malfoy_?”

Lucius stepped in, his cane tapping softly on the ground. Be it out of nervousness or impatience, was unclear, but it was a given that Lord Malfoy was awaiting something. “Malfoy Mates are extremely rare. The last time it happened was Brutus Malfoy, your grandfather’s grandfather.” The blonde man smiled at his wife, “When your mother and I found each other, we assumed — incorrectly it seems — that there wouldn’t be another for a few more generations.”

This had rendered the room silent.

Draco and Hermione glanced at each other, assessing each other without the facade of hostility. They were quite compatible, they realised. Hermione had always beaten Draco for First in Class marginally, and they both shared a passion for reading.

A small smile flickered over their lips as they gazed at each other silently, before it was hidden when the curly haired witch turned to face an awkward looking Tom.

Hermione felt guilty for speaking of such intimate topics in front of a man who had never known love like they strived for. Hesitantly, she brought his cold hand into hers and rested her face on his bicep, nuzzling slightly. The older man remained outwardly stoic, though he felt — surprisingly — warm at the affectionate gesture.

“I assume this was not the reason I was invited here. Care to enlighten me?” Hermione said, breaking the silence and the Malfoys out of their stupor from watching the dark lord allow a girl — a mudblood non the less — touch him.

“Tom demanded you came or I’d get crucio-ed,” Abraxas tattled, seemingly pleased with himself as he rocked back and forth on his old feet with a mischievous smile.

Hermione glared at the dark haired shade. “You were going to _crucio_ him in his fragile state? He’s a senior, Tom! You might still have your youth but he definitely doesn’t!”

“Hey! I’m just as young as you and ikkle Draco!”

The youngest Malfoy snorted, “Poppy, you told me yesterday that you forgot the spell that makes you _blink_.”

The eldest Malfoy grumbled and narrowed his wrinkled eyes at Tom. Pointing a slightly shaking finger at Draco, he demanded, “Tell them how good looking I was, Tom. Tell them!”

Hermione smiled in amusement at the covert interactions of the Malfoy family. Their cold facade truly was a complete one-eighty to the intimacy she was displayed with now.

Light hearted banter continued to be shared between the Malfoys, Tom and Hermione until a scratchy voice summoned Lucius and Abraxas to the drawing room in the Northern Wing.

Hermione nudged Tom with her foot. “Think it’s time to make yourself known?”

Tom nodded as he stood up, offering the girl his arm before leading them to the other side of the manor. They stopped outside of two, large, french-origin doors.

The curly haired witch clicked her tongue. “Don’t vomit, you’re pretty revolting.”

Tom breathed out a laugh, reassuring the girl that he’d be cautious. “Follow me in. Once you hear the snake in there speaking, I need you to repeat some words in parseltongue. Can you do that?”

Hermione exhaled sharply. “Yes.” she confirmed.

“An _absolute treasure_ you are, Hermione Granger.” he mumbled as he placed a feathery kiss on her forehead.

“I know.” she smirked. “What am I supposed to cast?”

“ _ **:: Return his body, return his soul, return his blood ::**_ ” Tom hissed quietly.

Hermione nodded, repeating the words in her mind. “You better give me protection through this war you’ve started, Tom.” she reminded with a warning lilt.

“Actually, I’m planning on scrapping war altogether. Now wish me luck.”

Hermione rolled her eyes before opening a door and pushing him into the room. The girl tried her hardest to avoid cringing and hiding from the piercing crimson gaze of _Lord Voldemort._

“Tom Marvolo Riddle.” the snake-man hissed with a smirk playing on his thin, pale lips. “Three years later and we’re finally reunited.”

“Fifty two years later and you’ve gone insane.” Tom retorted coldly as hell glared at his future self. “Tell me, Voldemort, you— I was so successful whilst I had my sanity, what prompted you into creating more than one horcrux?”

“Ssseven is a powerful number,”

Tom nodded curtly, “That may be, but you have eight horcruxes, not seven.”

It took a moment for snake-eyes to calculate where he had gone wrong. “ _Potter-boy_.” he spat menacingly, blood eyes narrowing into slits thinner than his nostrils. “I shall kill him, simple.”

Hermione bit down on her tongue, forcing herself to swallow the noise of despair bubbling in the back of her throat. 

“You shall do nothing,” Tom chided, “For you shall no longer exist.”

His wand was brandished faster than Voldemort’s. He cast an undoubtably dark spell on the serpent man, causing the two males to collapse and writhe in pain on the marble floor of the drawing room.

She heard the large snake speaking before she saw it circling both her masters, trapping them within the circumference of her body.

“ ** _:: Bind Master’s body, Bind Master’s blood ::_** ” Nagini chanted as she travelled around the two bodies in circles.

Hermione took her cue, her mind easily slipping into parseltongue as she vocalised: “ _ **:: Return his body, return his soul, return his blood ::**_ ”

The two Malfoy men took several steps backwards, their backs pressed against the double doors as they watched the resurrected body and the body of a childhood friend merge within a bright, white orb of light.

Nagini ceased her chants, tapping the tip of her tail on Hermione’s foot for her to follow suit. The witch shielded her eyes from the glow, removing them once the concentration of magic within the room had depleted to a comfortable, normal level.

“Tom?” she questioned warily, her wand skilfully trained at the man’s jugular.

The man coughed violently, his hand — _human_ hand — covering his mouth. He reached upwards to touch the top of his head, as though he were assuming it to be clean shaven, only to find his fingers tangled in dark brown locks. Instinctively, he reached down for his nose, a contented sound emitting from his mouth as he realised he now had one.

Looking at Hermione, he asked vainly, “Well? How do I look?”

“Human. Mid thirties perhaps.” she answered after giving him a quick glance over. She pressed her wand harder into his neck. “Which one are you? Tom or Voldemort?”

“ _Tomoldemort_.”

“What?”

“Tom and Voldemort. Tomoldemort.” he stated with an eyeroll. “And you’re planning on getting more N.E.W.Ts than _me_? Fat laugh.”

Hermione didn’t move.

Sighing dramatically, _Tomoldemort_ crossed his legs like a child. His hand reached out to pet Nagini’s scales affectionately as he explained that he had both memories of his horcrux self and Voldemort.

“Bloody hell.” Abraxas whistled lowly as he slid down the door and sat on the cool floor.

“I seriously hope I don’t regret this.” Hermione muttered as she massaged her temple.

Abraxas laughed. “No girl has ever said that to Tom before!”

“Glad to be the first.” she commented dryly.

Hermione shrieked when she felt two arms yanking her to the floor, causing her to almost trip over the fatally large snake. “What are you doing!” she yelled into his school-robe clad shoulder.

“Hugging you! Isn’t this what girls like?”

“Not when the man’s robes smell like rotten bloody eggs! And whoever told you that was lying.”

Tom sniffed his arm before wincing at the rancid smell. “Right. These need to be incinerated.”

Hermione laughed.

//

“Do I actually look good though?”

“What do you want to hear? I’ve told you _yes_ about a hundred times already!”

“Fine. Do I _smell_ good?”

“I’m not sniffing you like a dog.”

“Sniff me like a cat then.”

Hermione gasped in horror, “Shite! I left Crookshanks at home with no food or anything!”

Tom tutted, “Too young to be forgetting things, Hermione. Much less an _actual living pet_.”

Hermione scowled. “You know, you’ve gotten incessantly annoying since your second resurrection.”

“You must’ve rubbed off on horcrux me.”

The witch huffed as she informed a wandering Narcissa that she would be back in a moment with Crookshanks.

Turning to Tom, she asked, “Would you like to come? I can give you a little tour around London.”

The older man’s face crumpled into a sneer as he revisited memories he’d rather keep locked away. “No thank you.” he said curtly.

Hermione sighed and hugged him again. “It’s completely different from the last time you were there, Tom. There aren’t any air raids or soldiers seeking refuge in local community buildings. Pollution is significantly lower too.”

“I- I just... not now. If I feel like going I’ll tell you.”

“Of course.” she mumbled, pulling away from him. “Think you know of any spells that stop a familiar from killing it’s master?” she joked lightly before disapparating.

Despite the light hearted comment, Tom couldn’t help but feel as though he had disappointed the young witch and... _he didn’t like that_.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sanguis revelare.
> 
> Translation: blood reveal.

"Wake up, missy Hermy!" the young witch awoke to the sound of an impatient elf shaking her. 

Mumbling, she turned around, snuggling deeper into the warm, silk sheets that shielded her from the frost draft seeping into her room.

_Blasted elf must've left the door open_. 

"Minty is not a  blasted elf! Minty is a  etiquette elf! " came the same jarring voice.

_ This dream— _

_Smack_!

Jolting upright, Hermione glared at the offending intruder, half surprised half not when finding a rather short, bossy looking elf holding a rolled up newspaper in its hands.

"Finally." the etiquette elf huffed, "Missy Hermy must be ready for breakfast properly. Missy Hermy is not permitted to go to breakfast wearing those.. those..  _ rags _ !"

Hermione's jaw dropped. " _Rags_?!" she narrowed her eyes at the elf after assessing her nighttime attire. "These are my pyjamas!"

Waving a small hand, the elf dismissed her notion, waddling towards the heap of bags she had yet to unpack. " _Rags_."

Snapping its fingers, all of Hermione's clothing hovered above her shut bag. 

"How did you do that?" Hermione questioned, a tinge of anger seeping through her tone, "Those bags are warded!"

"Wizard magic doesn't work like elfs. Elf magic gets through all wizard magic." the elf explained as it sorted through her wardrobe.

"I'm a witch—"

"By gender yes, not by magic yet."

"Magic?" Hermione questioned in intrigue as she tidied her bed. 

"Wizards can only do wizard magic. Witches can do witch magic and wizard magic. Elf magic can only go through wizard magic, _not witch magic_."

"So if all witches can do witch magic... why don't they?"

Looking over its shoulders conspicuously, the little elf moved closer and dropped her volume to a whisper. "Wizards be scared of witches so the ministry—"

"—which is mainly controlled by wizards—" Hermione quipped quietly, receiving a nod from the etiquette elf.

"—yes, the ministry put a lock on witch's magics so it's  _ inacssslble .  Inascexiable .  In _ —"

"Inaccessible?"

"Yes. That word." the elf grinned.  "Missy Hermy you are a very powerful witch with just wizard magic—" the elf cut itself off with an outraged gasp, "—with  _ terrible fashion_! What  _ is _ this?" it shrieked, a pair of black, cotton knickers dangling from its fingers. 

Hermione flushed. "My uhh..  _ comfort _ underwear."

"Missy Hermy has monthly's?"

"Yes. Why?" her face turned a shade darker of crimson.

"Witch magic first unlocks after a witch's first monthly."

"And?"

"Missy!" the elf groaned, smacking its forehead. "When Missy next monthly starts, tell Minty—"

"Who's Minty?"

"Me." the elf glared, snapping its fingers to return her clothes (save for the undergarments) into the suitcases. "Come Missy, Minty gives you a bath."

"I- uh-" Hermione stammered as she was forcefully pushed into the adjoining bathroom that had a steaming bubblebath ready for use. "Are you a male or a female, Minty?"

"I is both, Missy."

"What are you now?"

"Whatever you wish me to be, Missy."

"Right..." she trailed awkwardly, "What do you prefer to be."

"Elves are not bothered about gender. Elves are not like wizards and witches." the informative little creature explained as she stripped Hermione with a flick of her wrist and pushed her into the pool-like bath. 

_ The Malfoys had taste _ , the curly haired witch noted as she rested on the marble flooring of the pool.

Closing her eyes, she leaned closer to the small hand massaging through her curls with shampoo, hissing when a trimmed nail got caught in a tangle. 

"Missy Hermy must understand that witch magic was the first magic to be found. _Rowena Ravenclaw_ was the first of the founders of Hogwarts to have magic."

"Was she?" Hermione asked. That little bit of information hadn't been recorded in any tome or scroll regarding the founders. In fact, the books had stated that she was the last one to receive her powers. 

"Oh yes. Missy shouldn't believe everything in Hogwarts.  _Headmaster Dumblydoor_ is not good."

"What makes you say that?"

"Headmaster Dumblydoor should have killed Grindywaldy in the big duel. But he didn't and TomTom is going to find him." Hermione held back a snigger at the elf's nickname for Voldemort as Slippy's tone dipped seriously. "Missy Hermy must stop TomTom from finding Grindywald."

"How do I do that, Minty? Where am I going to hide Grindelwald?"

Minty shook her head, "No missy. No hiding.  _ Kill him _ ."

Hermione gulped, her mouth drying as she soaked in the etiquette elf's words. "Minty, who are you bound to?"

"The  House of Gaunt , Missy. Why?"

Hermione paled. This wasn't a _Malfoy_ asking her to save them from the evil man living under their roof. This was a cry for help from the magic of the _House of Gaunt itself._

"Why are you telling me this, Minty?"

"Minty cannot tells you, Missy. Gaunt magics says to let you find out by yourself very very soon." the elf replied cryptically as she finished drying Hermione's body. "Minty will be back with clothes." 

//

Dolled with light makeup and a very  Narcissa-esque dress with a winter cloak, Hermione peered at her reflection in amusement as Minty placed a diamond butterfly clip within her bun of dark curls. Two dark curls framed the sides of her face, a faint pink blush colouring her pale cheeks. A natural, yet elegant colour was applied to her eyelids and light highlighter sparkled under the winter sunlight streaming through the room's windows.

_ She looked so different yet so much the same.  _

"There! Missy Hermy is ready just in time!" the elf clapped happily, grinning at the witch's reflection.

Hermione smiled softly at the elf. "Thank you, Minty."

The elf blushed, her eyes diverting from her own green and silver orbs. "Come, Minty takes you to the dining table." 

As they walked through the halls, Hermione could feel the magic of Malfoy Manor brushing against her own curiously, attempting to figure out what kind of mistress of the Manor she would be like. 

The feeling was rather pleasant, she observed, as the magic was rather playful around her. 

The walk had certainly put her in a good mood— the best mood she had been in since her resorting. 

The double oak doors opened slowly with a snap of Slippy's fingers, who introduced her with a deep bow. 

Hermione stepped inside, glancing around the room in awe as she soaked in the sunshine coming through the opened curtains. 

Tom shifted his chair to the side at the head of the table, another conjuring up for a place for her to sit. She sat as elegantly as she could, ensuring her posture was as straight as Narcissa's in order to avoid another smack from Minty’s rolled up paper. 

Clearing her throat delicately, she smiled. "Any reason why I was told to play dress up?"

"You're the mistress of a pureblood manor," Tom whispered, "It's time you act like one."

Hermione grimaced. "Social appearances only? Or do I have to sit up like there's a stick up my ass when I'm alone too?"

Tom laughed, a loud almost manic laugh that scared the Malfoy family alabaster. Hermione sat frozen, his laugh wasn't comforting by any means but the sound made her want to erupt into a fit of laughter herself. 

_ It was like the laugh of a cartoon villain. _

Stifling a snigger, she reached over to grab a piece of toast only to have it smacked away by the Malfoy Heir. The platinum blonde slid two off of the serving plate into hers and offered her a selection of hot and cold beverages.

Hermione had to stifle another snort. She had never presumed she would have her tormentor serving her food within his family walls. 

Lucius cleared his throat. "My lord, with Miss Granger's block removed, I've activated the war wards in case of an attack from the Order of The Phoenix."

Tom nodded, "Good. I have no doubt that  he will have noticed it's removal, though that may leave the Lovegoods in a precarious position. The Lovegood daughter was the one to remove it."

"You don't think Dumbledore will actually harm Luna? Do you?" Hermione piped in quietly, a feeling of worry budding for her friend. 

"There's no telling what he would and what he wouldn't do." 

"Why did he even put a block on Granger?" Draco asked curiously after wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"Narcissa will be taking Hermione to Gringotts for a blood test to ensure that all blocks are removed." Tom replied curtly, not wanting to admit his lack of knowledge in the area. 

"Why not St.Mungo's?" 

"Because, Hermione, St. Mungo's can only tell you if you have blocks on, not what blocks they are. You would have to visit the goblins if there are any, so might as well just get it all sorted at Gringotts."

Lucius nodded, "Gringotts is also safer regarding accessibility by Dumbledore. You can only enter with a valid reason and even then you have a goblin ghost-tailing you."

"Oh."

"If that is all, Lucius I want you to call a a meeting for dinner tonight and Mini Malfoy, I want you to collect all the books you can find regarding wards. Blood wards especially." Tom ordered as he stood up, straightening his pristine robes. "Narcissa, after your trip to Gringotts take Hermione shopping. Who knows what atrocity she'll come back with on her own." 

" _ Atrocity _ ?!"

"Hush child." Tom scolded, "I'll be introducing you to the Death Eaters tonight and you must represent yourself well." 

"You know Tom, I never did understand why you changed the name from  _ Knights of Walpurgis _ to  _ Death Eaters _ ." Abraxas quipped as he took a sip from his cup of tea.

"Blame the former insanity." the dark haired man dismissed with a click of his tongue. He bent down and placed a kiss on Hermione's forehead, "Be back before it gets dark."

He kissed Narcissa's knuckles and whispered loudly, "Don't let her dissuade you. She can be very adamant when she wants to be." 

"Hey! I heard that!"

"You were meant to. Lucius, come."

//

A quick hair touch up and a spritz of her citrus perfume, Hermione and Narcissa apparated onto the grounds of Gringotts. Upon reaching the front desk with a malicious looking goblin, the Malfoy matriarch took charge. 

"I would have access to the Malfoy Vault and a  _ sanguis revelare _ test." she spoke firmly, her posture straight and regal and her countenance a mixture of elegance and grace.

"Key." was all the goblin demanded for, unfazed by Narcissa's smothering presence. 

Handing the gold key with the malfoy crest engraved within the ridges, the goblin took them on the same ride she had journeyed on during her gringotts account set up. 

The trip down was further than she had anticipated, undoubtedly a part of the  _ Higher Security Vaults _ . It left Narcissa a sickly green which Hermione countered with a simple refreshing charm. 

Thanking the young witch, the Malfoy matriarch entered the vault with ease, beckoning Hermione to come forward. "You have  _ Malfoy Magic _ running through your veins, silly witch, of course the vault will accept you."

Inhaling deeply, she trespassed over the border into the vault. Looking around her jaw nearly dropped at the immense amount of gold lining the middle. Further behind, hidden within the dark, was another vault door in which the heirlooms passed through generations were stored. 

"Grab a handful. I'm a very expensive shopper."

"I- Mrs Malfoy—"

"Narcissa, please." she smiled.

"Narcissa." Hermione tested before continuing, "I don't need anything expensive. Ignore what Tom said—"

Narcissa giggled. "Tom warned me of this. You're not going to be the one shopping, do not worry." Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "I shall be shopping for you and using you as a mannequin so to speak."

The curly haired witch groaned, earning a smack on the arm. "Unbecoming behaviour of a Lady."

"Sorry Ma'am."

Shaking her head in amusement, Narcissa followed the goblin back to the main floor, ensuring Hermione was with her as they entered the testing room. 

The room resembled an ancient science laboratory, with stacks of potions lining the shelves and numerous cauldrons and glass, crystal, gold and silver vials sitting sturdily in transfigured, enchanted test tube racks. 

A foot long piece of plain parchment dropped onto the desk in front of her. The goblin assisting them beckoned for her hand to grab hold of the enchanted dagger laying on a red cushion. 

"Your cut will heal once three drops of blood have been dropped onto the parchment." the goblin said gruffly.

Nodding her understanding, Hermione picked up the blade and held it between her fingers. Mentally noting the runes carved into blade itself and the handle, she sliced a line into her palm. Placing the dagger back onto the red cushion, she curled her split palm into a fist and hovered it above the parchment. 

_ One drop.  _

The blood spread to the corners in an intricate fashion. 

_ Two drops. _

Letters and muddled wordings formed in the colour of her blood. 

_ Three drops .  _

She could feel the itching sensation of her palm healing as the letters and words rearranged themselves to form a cohesive form.

Picking it up, Hermione's eyes scanned over the parchment, gasping when she saw the name of someone whom she considered to have zero chance of being related to despite the similarities in appearance. 

"It’s safe to say that whatever Luna did removed the entirety of the blocks but...Narcissa?" 

"Yes dear?"

Hermione pointed at the names above her own on her family tree, connected by two bold lines indicating existence.

_ Tom Marvolo Riddle & Marlene McKinnon _


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t let your opinions be your hamartia.”

"Minty!" Hermione called as she paced around her room, the rolled up piece of parchment lay sprawled open on her bed.

"Missy calls for Minty?" The elf greeted with a bow, "Missy looks stressed."

The curly haired witch looked at her frantically. "Is this what you meant when I would find out soon?" she asked, referring to their conversation earlier in the day.

"Missy knows?"

"That I am the daughter of the darkest wizard of this age?" she hissed, "Yes, I do now! Why couldn't you tell me before?!"

"Missy wouldn't believe me and _House magics_ said not to."

"Oh for fucks sake!" Hermione groaned angrily as she collapsed onto her soft bed.

"No swearing." Minty quietly chided, unwilling to scold the witch despite it being in her nature to do so.

Hermione didn't know when or why the waterworks began, all she knew was that she wanted to break down alone. Thus, she sent Minty away back to her former occupation prior to her arrival after the shopping trip. The elf merely nodded and apparated away to Gaunt Manor, searching for the faint magical tethers the bonded house elves had left after leaving to find work else where.

She grasped onto the strongest one she could find and apparated onto the boundary of the desolate castle of Hogwarts.

"Minty?" a familiar, scratchy voice asked cautiously.

"Misty!" Minty grinned, "The House of Gaunt has a new mistress!"

"Mistress acknowledge?"

"Yes!"

Misty grinned back, "Misty will call all Gaunt elfs. Gaunt elfs shall return to Gaunt Manor!"

Minty nodded. "In two weeks." she confirmed before apparating back into Malfoy Manor to continue her chores.

Meanwhile, Hermione had stripped and slipped into a warm bath with her favoured scents of lavender and honey. Tears cascaded down her flushed cheeks as she hastily cast a silencing spell to muffle her painful cries.

Her muggle parents had adopted her — _how_ was uncertain, prompting a wave of regret to wash over her as she cringed at her impulsive reaction that locked away the memories she needed most — and her birth parents were the darkest sorcerers of the age until Marlene had been killed, supposedly by Voldemort himself.

A low rumble erupted around the room, a loud crack and a wave of bubbly water splashed onto her unsuspecting figure. Shrieking, Hermione reached for her wand, aiming at the person swimming to the surface of the pool with a nasty hex at the tip of her tongue.

Platinum blonde hair plastered onto alabaster skin broke the surface, eliciting another scream from the bathing girl. "Malfoy! What are you doing here? Get out!"

She sunk lower below the bubbles in a weak attempt to save at least an ounce of dignity. Draco trained his striking grey orbs on her cognac ones, his gaze never faltering downwards despite his struggle.

"I don't know how I got here, actually." he sneered, "I was about to take a bath and next thing I know, I'm inhaling bubbles."

Hermione didn't want to laugh, truly she didn't, and whether it was her secondary form of cathartic release or simply the sight of Draco Malfoy, prince of all things pale and pointy, adorning a bubble beard and the scent of lavender caused her to collapse into a fit of hysteria, she didn’t wholly know.

Flushing red, he rolled his eyes nonchalantly as he wiped away the bubbles. "Glad to know my appearance humours you."

"S-Sor—" Hermione started after capturing her breath only to erupt into another fit of giggles again.

Draco allowed her to calm down, hiding his own light snicker over his shoulder. "No you're not."

"You're right," Hermione grinned, "I'm not. Now get out."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I need a bath, you're having a bath, might as well save water and have a bath together, no?" he winked.

Hermione grimaced.

Draco put a hand over his heart, gasping dramatically, "Don't tell me the Hermione Granger doesn't want to be environmentally friendly?"

Scowling, she threw the bar of soap beside her at him. "It's a matter of decency Malfoy! Two people shouldn't bathe together unless they have some sort of relationship and are comfortable—"

"And we don't have a relationship yet?"

Hermione looked down at her manicured fingers. "Well... not necessarily. All we know is that—"

"We're Malfoy Mates yes, I know Granger. You don't know how many times my grandfather has gone over this in the hours you and Mother were gone alone."

"You mean Poppy?" Hermione teased.

Draco sniffed, "Who else?"

Laughing lightly, the curly haired witch sunk low enough till her bottom lip brushed against the surface of the water. "What's happening with your betrothal contract then? Do you still have to do it?"

"How do you know about that?"

"It's common knowledge in Hogwarts, you know. You and Parkinson."

Draco bit his lip, droplets of water trailing down the side of his nose and spreading along his lips in the most erotic way Hermione had ever seen. "It'll be nullified if you accept the role as Mistress of the Manor."

Eager for knowledge, Hermione asked, "Let's say you do get married to Parkinson, does that mean she becomes Mistress?"

"Yes but if you and her were to say.. i don't know.. have a duel or something around here, the Manor's magic would support you as it's rightful channeller despite Pansy being the Mistress."

"What if it was me against you?"

"I'm not sure. Want to try?" he smirked.

"Not today, another time perhaps."

"Scared you'd lose?" Draco teased, earning a rightful splash of soapy water. Chuckling, the boy continued. "I think the family magic would check the intentions of each opponent. If the opponent is a threat — family or not — I assume that the magic would support the defender."

"Oh."

Draco shrugged, "Now its my turn to ask questions." at her affirmative gesture he asked the question that had been bothering him since her arrival the previous day. "Why did Dumbledore place a block on you?"

"I suspect it has something to do with my parentage," she said truthfully, avoiding his penetrative gaze.

"No offence but you're a mud— _muggleborn_ aren't you? What's dangerous about that?"

Hermione ignored his slip up, grateful that he was at least attempting to hide his malicious opinions for the moment. "I'm halfblood actually. I found out today."

Draco gazed at her ridiculously, "Still not a valid reason when there are plenty of halfbloods roaming around."

"Well it is when your parents are the fucking Dark Lord and Lady." she mumbled quietly, mostly to herself than to the man sharing her bath with her.

The blonde choked, "W-What?!"

" _Oh fuck_ ," Hermione cursed, her eyes widening in panic, "Don't tell anyone yet, please."

"You'll have to tell him before the meeting, Granger." Draco warned, "It's in three hours. Now would be the best time."

"Yes, I realised." Hermione huffed. "I can't get out until you do."

"Aww, why not? I was looking forward to a show."

Hermione scrunched her nose up in disgust, her magic flaring around her wild hair in spontaneous sparks as a result of her barely contained rage. " _You bratty little—"_

An elfish pop sounded from behind her, prompting her to look over her shoulder, her arms crossing over her chest. "Minty, please get him out of here."

"Of course, Missy. No swearing."

"Right." Hermione nodded once, ignoring the Malfoy Heir's gaze as her elf teleported him back into his own bath.

Quickly scrubbing herself, she dried herself with a charm and dressed into one of her new purchases. A comfortable, navy blue dress robe with embedded warming charms to protect her from the biting chill without the requirement of an outer robe or otherwise.

Tying her hair into a quick high ponytail, Hermione hastily jogged into the office Tom was currently working in.

Knocking thrice, she smoothed her dress down with her trembling hands, careful not to crease the parchment of truth in her hand.

"Enter."

Closing the door behind her, the young witch was greeted with a small smile. "What brings you here, Hermione?"

She dropped the rolled up scroll onto his desk, unravelling it before pointing at his name.

"Marlene McKinnon? Marlene.. Marley.. Marl... May." she heard him mumbling to himself as the parchment shook in his grasp. "Marlene is alive?"

Hermione shrugged, "Apparently. But you also killed her as the rumour goes."

Tom's fierce green eyes snapped onto hers angrily. "I would never hurt my Marlene." he growled.

Gulping, Hermione nodded. "Yes, sir."

" _Father_." he corrected absently.

"How are you so calm about this?"

"This saves me from having to say _friend_ in front of my followers." he waved his hand dismissively as he continued to analyse the family tree. "Marius Black? Damn you're related to just about everyone."

"Were you and Marlene married?"

Tom nodded. "For three years until that night at the Potters. When I came back to check on her whilst I was a spirit, she was gone. It was obvious there had been a duel — so many things were charred, destroyed. I searched endlessly for her, the spirit form being extremely helpful in trespassing unnoticed, but I couldn't find her. Who knows what she's been through in these fifteen years."

"Do you... do you think The Order— _Dumbledore_ might have her?" Hermione questioned nervously.

Tom nodded. "It's a possibility."

"It makes sense though, doesn't it? Kidnap the offspring of the darkest sorcerers in the world and raise her among the class they deem vermin? Torture the mother for information using her child as a... as blackmail.. and—" she took a calming breath, "I don't know what to say about you."

"I didn't know you were alive, Hermione." he dropped the parchment onto the desk, manoeuvring around it to stand opposite her and place two, comforting hands on her shoulders. "I didn't know you existed. Marlene didn't tell me she was pregnant. She either hid it until I was supposed to come back from killing Potter — which was a stupid idea, the hiding thing I mean— or she didn't know until later on during her imprisonment."

Hermione let out a weak laugh, "What would you have done anyway if you knew about me? You were a disembodied spirit."

"I would've trusted you to one of my followers—"

"You? Trusting?"

Tom smirked and ruffled her damp locks, "You know me so well, witch."

Hermione smiled.

"Anyways, this will make introductions a fair bit easier but you'll still have to prove your worth to them."

"Aren't half of your death eaters in azkaban?"

"Not anymore." Tom smiled serenely, observing the flicker of fear that had flitted over her countenance. "They will not harm you, do not fret."

"Bellatrix Lestrange might."

"It is true, Tom. Bella has quite the infatuation of you." Narcissa's soft voice said from behind the reunited blood.

"Alive or not I'm still vowed for Marlene. Bellatrix can go suck her husband if she thinks anything else."

Hermione nearly snorted. Nearly.

"Marlene? _Marlene McKinnon?_ You were the mysterious husband she never uttered a word about?" Narcissa gasped, her dainty hand covering her unhinged jaw.

"How do you know her?" Tom glared accusingly at the Malfoy matriarch.

"She was my best friend. We were friends from birth and then after we graduated Hogwarts, she disappeared. The last letter I received from her was that she had married an _outrageously handsome_ man but she couldn't disclose any further details." Her eyes flickered over Tom's stance. "Should've suspected it was you." then, she turned to Hermione, cupping her cheek kindly like her adopted mother had done. "I don't understand how I never noticed. You look like the perfect mixture of your parents!"

"Adapted _notice-me-not charm_ perhaps?" Hermione suggested, leaning into her warm touch.

"Perhaps." Narcissa echoed, dropping her hand to face Tom. "Just came to let you know that Bella and Rodolphus will be staying in the East wing. Lestrange Manor is still under speculation of the aurors as they cannot penetrate the ancestral wards."

Tom nodded. "Good to know which wing to avoid."

//

An exaggerated inhalation from a bordering psychotic witch sounded in the foyer of Malfoy Manor. "Oh Cissy! The Manor looks so much more wonderful than last time! Have you been redecorating?"

"Of course I have, Bella. It's been nearly fourteen years since you last came here."

"Not my fault." the crazy haired witch sniffed imperiously, her emaciated hand wiping some dirt away from her obsidian eyes.

Rolling her eyes, Narcissa led her eldest sister into the front drawing room (Lucius following closely behind) where two of the three Malfoy men and the Riddles were seated. Abraxas and Draco sat by each other on one of the luxurious sofas adorning the room whilst Hermione and Tom sat regally beside each other on two, ornate chairs by the grandfather clock ticking rhythmically beside the fireplace.

Bellatrix's jaw dropped at the sight of her lord's beauty and the girl beside him. _That little baby bitch took—_

"Bellatrix," he stood, pulling her fragile and frankly smelly frame into a quick hug. "I'm sure you know all of the men and the boy there?" his question sounded more of a statement.

Bellatrix nodded, her eyes still assessing the stone cold look the young witch in the ornate chair was giving her. Tom smirked lightly before gesturing towards the girl, "I'd like for you to meet my daughter, Hermione."

— _Ohhhhh. Bloody fucking shite. Not a little baby bitch. Not a little baby bitch._

"Indeed, Bella, not a little baby bitch." Tom chided amused. "Hermione, dear, I'd like you to help Bellatrix clean up more presentably."

_Hermione... Her-My-Oh-Knee.... Hermione Granger? Potter's mudblood?!_

"Mudblood!" her mouth moved as her brain caught up with her thoughts.

Hermione Riddle stood up, her right hand twitching for the wand resting comfortably in her hidden holster. "No, not a mudblood, Bellatrix Lestrange."

"B-but you're Potter's mudblood!" she spat, "I saw it on.. on the paper! You and the little baby!"

Hermione's face twisted in distaste, "You shouldn't believe everything you see in the media, Mrs. Lestrange—"

"Black. Bellatrix Black."

Confused yet undeterred, Hermione carried on, "Ms. Black. Even if it is your only source. Choosing to believe in something without solid knowledge will only result in your downfall." her comment aimed at Tom.

The dark haired man merely made a sound of assent.

"I can feel your magic, Miss Black." she placed a hand on the gaunt woman's skeletal shoulders. "It's powerful, _suffocating_ , almost tangible." she flattered, "Don't let your tainted opinions be your hamartia."

Tom looked on at his daughter proudly, a flicker of a smile appearing before vanishing just as quick. Draco looked entranced as did Lucius as they leaned forward on the edge of their seats, half aware that the azkaban escapee could resort to muggle violence given that her wand was out of reach. Rodolphus, who was leaning against the doorframe of the entrance to the drawing room, gulped as he watched the short witch caress the woman's pale hand softly.

Once the girl assumed the position of her father, she would instil a far greater amount of fear than her predecessor. Her shift from soft tenderness would rattle the Death Eaters bones once her ire was made evident.

"Come, Bellatrix Black, let's get you into something more Black-worthy."


	12. Chapter Twelve

"Have you ever considered cutting your hair?" Hermione asked as she brushed through Bellatrix's crazy, dark curls.

The woman hissed as the young witch tugged a knot free after years of it being tangled without anything to undo it with. "Never. It's unbec— OW!— unbecoming of a proper lady."

"Apologies," Hermione said half heartedly, "I'm sure society will permit you to cut at least three inches, you've just been released from Azkaban!"

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"I'm doing it, Bellatrix." Hermione warned as she pointed her wand at the dripping curls. "Diffindo," she muttered, making a swiping motion as the woman shrieked and splashed within the bath of bubbles.

"You little bitch!" she cried hysterically, "My beautiful hair!"

"Narcissa's hair is shorter than yours, Bella, besides now we can return it to its former lusciousness."

The dark witch grumbled as a coconut scented conditioner was massaged into her scalp. It had been nearly two decades since she was permitted a shower, never mind a bath as luxurious as this. Hermione, Bellatrix had to admit, had wonderful massaging skills. Each twist and pressure applied by her lithe fingers released the tensions that had been building in her figure since the day she was sentenced to a lifetime in prison surrounded by soul-sucking dementors.

"What's your favourite colour other than black?" Hermione attempted to start a conversation as she washed the soap particles from the older witch's body.

"Not grey." Bellatrix mumbled, "Or white. Green?"

Hermione hummed, "Yes, green would look stunning on you. Purple too. Do you like purple?"

"A bit."

"I had a house elf retrieve some of your clothing from Lestrange Manor and place it in your wardrobe. Can you dress yourself or will you need help with that too?"

Bellatrix Black was not a weak witch. Many new that she hated displaying weakness, thus in her pride she refused the help being offered and scrambled with a towel into her room to get dressed after the Dark Lord's daughter left to dress herself.

Staring forlornly at the reflection in the mirror, the dark witch observed her lack of figure as the menial food — slop, rather — provided weekly in Azkaban was merely for survival to ensure that the longevity of the punishment was served. The silk, forest green dress that had been her favourite during her time as a free witch no longer hugged the curves she used to have attractively. Instead, it fell over her like a pillowcase on a house elf — ill fitted and ugly.

Hermione's head popped through her door after three restrained knocks sounded around the room. Adorned in a velvet purple dress with black sleeves and outline; a sweet, silver tiara embellished with small stones of amethyst and similarly patterned necklace latched onto the crown of her head and the modestly exposed skin of her chest.

She looked elegant, regal, powerful.

"Ready to go?"

Bellatrix merely nodded as she glared jealously at the narcissa-esque dress that clung to an enticing figure. Noticing this, Hermione smiled, baring pearly white teeth through parted, pink-tainted lips. "Regular meals and you'll have your normal shape back too." she assured as they followed a minor house elf into the drawing room where the meeting with all of the remaining Death Eaters was to be hosted.

The ancient doors opened, revealing a long dining table filled with people of ranging in their teens to adulthood and some even their grand-adulthood. Rodolphus automatically stood up from his seat, walking the small distance from his place to the door to escort Bella beside him. Though they were brought in matrimony in order to keep their bloodlines pure, Hermione concealed a smile at the hint of love shining in the man's eyes as he carefully sat his wife down beside him. Bellatrix may not have acknowledged her husband in the initial moments of her arrival, and had verbally reclaimed her maiden name, the young witch knew that the phase would pass over in at most a month as the couple recuperated from their lengthy stay with the dementors.

Both man and wife were bordering insanity. It was obvious in the way their hands trembled with the short, strong bursts of emotion they felt after so long of stoicism. Isolation, darkness and unpleasant conditions could drastically deteriorate one's psychological health and Hermione felt her natural maternal instinct burning within her to nurture the couple back into their former states of mind — further, she wanted to help them gain control over their psychopathic tendencies.

It would take a lot of work and time given majority of it would be spent in Hogwarts. Though, baby steps never harmed anyone.

Snape wasn't present at the meeting.

Tom nodded at Bellatrix who shot him a brief smile before turning to face his daughter who's hooded cloak concealed her identity from the curious gazes of his followers.

Standing up, much like Rodolphus, the dark haired man nudged the girl forward and placed a (surprisingly) warm hand on her shoulder. "This is my daughter; your Dark Lady. I am no longer the sole heir to Slytherin, for I share the title with my daughter who bares the titles Lady Gaunt and Lady McKinnon."

"McKinnon, milord?" a death eater, who Hermione could not identify, asked.

Tom nodded tersely. "Long before my... fall at the assassination of the Potters, I married Marlene McKinnon who disappeared without a trace after giving birth aside from a scorched nursery."

In order to calm both himself and the short witch, he rubbed minute circles with the pad of his thumb on her back. A small distraction to ebb away the pain.

"Recently I found and reconnected with my daughter, yet Marlene is still to be found after fifteen years." Tom continued, clearing his throat. It was obvious he thoroughly disliked being so open about his personal life. "While I was... out of commission, so to speak, I searched for my daughter's mother. I had the liberty to pass through each and every ancestral ward erected yet I could not find her."

Tom cleared his throat again. "Harry Potter is no longer the subject of my interest to defeat. Albus Dumbledore is the primary target, his precious Order the second." he announced clearly, "No more raids in the muggle world, no more free casting illegal hexes and curses. My daughter brought to light what I should've done the first time around— if I had done, we wouldn't be sitting here having this meeting today. Rather than the outright war that occurred in the 70s, we shall take a more political, safer route."

A man, Evan Rosier, raised a shaky hand.

Tom nodded for him to speak.

"M-milord, only a few of us are left in positions of power in the ministry—"

"We need to free Sirius Black." Hermione stated sharply, her cloak shadowing her face but her hypnotising, green eyes.

The mention of the disowned Black elicited an uproar of furious questions, resentment and words dehumanising the Azkaban escapee that had been arrested again in third year.

Hermione and Harry could have saved Sirius and Buckbeak from their less than satisfactory fates; however, Dumbledore had confiscated her time turner the night before, rendering her unable to absolve the atrocities that occurred that fateful day.

"Silence!" Tom ordered, his magic lashing out at those on the table angrily before settling in an invisible protective shield in front of his anonymous daughter. "Let the Lady speak."

"Thank you, Father." she curtsied slightly before continuing. "Blood traitor or not, Sirius Black has the Ancient and Noble House of Black's blood pumping through his veins. Thus, under the pureblood law, is applicable for trial. In the week that he was incarcerated, no trial for the pureblooded male was endeavoured on the account of Albus Dumbledore."

A low grumble of disgust emitted from the Death Eaters at the mention of the leader of the Light.

"Sirius Black was innocent!" she yelled loudly, her voice echoing around the large room. "He was denied his right as a pureblood! He is innocent of what he has been charged with! I tell you this as the true traitor, the true man that deserves to spend longer than the 15 years Sirius Black has spent in an Azkaban cell is sitting at this very table!"

"What?!" Tom hissed.

" _ **:: Don't react, I'm assessing him— Wormtail ::**_ " she replied in parseltongue, internally surprised at her causal knack for the language, her eyes not straying away from her father, causing her to miss the hungry look shot in her direction by the Malfoy heir.

Hermione glared at Tom, ensuring that his eyes didn't fixate on the traitor as of yet. Under the shadows of her hood, the young witch observed Wormtails nervous mouse-y twitching increase into a faint tremble. She smirked as his foul features frantically glanced at the sole door to freedom standing inanimately behind her.

Bellatrix, the undoubtedly clever witch, had caught on to the man's subtly erratic behaviour.

 _Good girl_ , Hermione silently appraised as she watched the woman nudge her husband and whisper.

"Further plans will be conveyed closer to each respective date. For now I want you to readjust, become healthier, stronger. Revise over every curse, spell, hex and charm to perfection. Train your body to increase your unequivocally weakened stamina. Prevention of magical bloodshed is vital, though if it comes to it, we must be prepared." Tom said sternly, a small essence of his raw power carrying through his voice to the corners of the room.

"Milord, what's happening with the mudbloods and muggles?"

Tom smirked cruelly as he suddenly whipped his wand out at the speaker. "Mudblood is a banned term. Crucio."

Piercing screams nearly shattered the ears of many as the man wiggled and writhed under the torture evoked by Tom's intent. The man had been under the spell for a whole three minutes before Hermione could no longer stand the deafening wails. She put her hand on his and lowered his bone white wand till it faced the bloodied floor of one of the many Malfoy drawing rooms.

"They didn't know." was all she said as she carefully pried his wand away from him. It was a display of gross etiquette, similar to a wizard taunting another magical being by snatching their wand with pride.

It worked to calm their leader down.

"The ideology of a purer world was perfect for that era, though now as many pureblood families struggle to secure at least one heir, it is time for you to recognise that marrying muggleborns will not sully a bloodline."

The beginning of an outrage began, but Tom commanded for silence once again.

Nobody wanted to be on the wrong end of his wand.

"That is why I propose a new rule that can be administered into the official law once we take over the ministry." Hermione started, her hands folded in front of her as Tom stood behind her. "It will become illegal for any creature or human possessing magic to marry or produce offspring with a muggle. In order to increase the population of the wizarding world and community, fresh blood is required for sustenance. Without it, purebloods of this generation will be lucky to even have a grandchild."

"Dismissed." Tom permitted them to leave, escorting Hermione out of the oak doors to her room. "How do you know it's Wormtail?"

Hermione had expected this. It was the same question she had answered to the Weasleys in the summer of her and Harry and Ron's third year. "In third year, when Sirius broke out, a whole bunch of things happened and by the end I had him cornered in the shrieking shack and he saved us from our werewolf Defence professor and he told us who had been the true secret keeper and I confirmed it with Lupin and—"

"Breathe, Hermione." he chided lightly, twisting a curl around his finger.

She did as instructed, clearing her thoughts. "In summary, he told us and our ex-Defence professor backed it up." Her eyes suddenly lit up in remembrance, "Oh! You should really work on removing that curse you placed on that teaching post. We haven't had a good professor since third year and now we have Umbitch—"

Tom's face soured, "Ugh, I forgot about the little pink problem."

"She loves using her Black Quill for detentions." she sneered.

The older man ran a hand through his hair. "Well we'll have to get that sorted, won't we?"

Hermione smiled at him before pulling him into a hug.

"Did you shrink like five inches in the last hour?!" she exclaimed giddily.

"Heels, dear, heels.

Hermione groaned.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just didn't want to be written.

"My lord,"

"What is it, Narcissa?"

The Malfoy matriarch grimaced, her throat drying as her mind rejected any script that she had come up with in order to ask of this favour.

 _Forget it_ , she resigned, _I'll have to improvise._

Clearing her throat delicately, she straightened her posture and dared to glance the formidable man in his hypnotising green orbs. "After the introduction to the Death Eaters, I figured that we could perhaps throw a ball or a gala of sorts for Hermione's new place in pureblood society."

"... Why?"

"It's compulsory for any pureblood witch to be introduced during her time of coming-of-age."

"I know that," he chided, "She's a bit older than that." he stated with a raised eyebrow, his hands steepled in front of him as they discussed his daughter. "Why now Narcissa? Coming-of-age parties are normally at the age of thirteen, why sixteen for Hermione?"

In her nervousness, the brunette-blonde tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "It will allow her to make connections, friends, within her birthright- house that she has been practically shunned from." Inhaling bravely, she continued, "You're a slytherin, Tom, by both blood and sorting. You understand that as a classified mudblood Hermione has been ostracised and if she claims her title nobody will believe her off the bat."

Narcissa was sticking her neck out for execution for her casual use of his name and bloodline.

A smirk tugged at the dark haired man's lips as he stood up and reached to brush another strand of rebellious hair that had fallen over her eye. He let his hand linger on her cheek as he soaked in the frightened yet courageous stance of his second-hand man's wife. He chuckled — a chilling sound that nearly brought the Malfoy Matriarch to her knees in surrender. "Narcissa dear, what are you afraid of? We're practically family," he let the last word hang in the air before nodding his assent, "Have it with the annual Yuletide ball, there's no point in hosting another one a few days afterwards when the children have to go to school.

Narcissa smiled and nodded once. "Thank you," she breathed before making a prompt exit towards her husband who had been waiting in anticipation, wondering if he would have to carry a twitching body back to their shared chambers.

"He said yes," she grinned, allowing herself to be lead to their room where she could ramble on about planning whilst Lucius feigned interest.

"Wonderful."

//

  
  
Hermione ducked as Minty flung yet another dress in her direction, exclaiming that she was thoroughly satisfied with Narcissa's fashion choices as opposed to her mistress' own. Bellatrix smirked behind her concealing hand as she munched on some high-class crackers and cheese provided by the Malfoy house elves.

The young, curly haired witch scowled as the etiquette elf forced her to change into a pale blue robe that looked astonishingly elegant, suggesting that it would be undoubtedly uncomfortable. 

She was wrong. The robes were both beautiful and soft to the touch. The bodice clung to her upper figure, enhancing her womanly assets, easing into a billowing cape that rivalled Snape's own signature walk. Both women snickered until they heard a drawling hiss entering through the opened door of the room.

A scaly head peaked through, a pink, forked tongue tasting the air before the snake decided to curl beside the fireplace. Hermione hadn't thought much of the snake that had helped her restore her father's body until that moment. Since it was his familiar and her family pet by relation, a mutual, friendly bond of sorts would be imperative between the two. 

" ** _//:Snake?://_** " the witch hissed as Minty had her sit down in order to manipulate her hair into something manageable. 

The scaly head perked up, its onyx eyes zoning in on her green ones. " _ **//:Mini Mistresss?://**_ "

Hermione sucked in her cheeks as she thought of something to say. Conversing with a snake felt bizarre and by the perturbed glances thrown in her direction by Bella, it must have appeared strange too, though it was understandable given that the gift was a rarity and was passed through bloodlines that had mainly died out. Herself, Harry and Tom most possibly were the only three parselmouths in the whole of the world in this time period. 

**_"//: What is your name?://"_ **

**_"//: Nagini. ://"_ **

Hermione licked her lips as her mind ran translations for the name. Nagini, feminine for Naga meaning snake. 

**_"//: Masssster tellss me you are sssnake too. ://"_ **

The witch nodded, ** _"//: I'm a King Cobra. ://"_** she stated proudly.

**_"//: Nagini warns Mini Mistress to shift into animagussss form sssoon. Too long without shifting caussessss irreversssible problemssss. ://"_ **

It had been close to a month since Hermione had last wandered around in her scaly alter-ego and the growing pains in her abdomen she had passed off as premenstrual cramps could possibly be her muscles and magic urging her to shift.

**_"//: I will keep that in mind, thank you Nagini. ://"_ **

The snake nodded, resuming her comfortable position by the warmth of the crackling fire. Bellatrix's hesitant query of her wellbeing snapped Hermione out of her thoughts, answering her with a nod and a silent promise to herself that she would shift the following night. Absently, the young witch wondered how long she could remain as a cobra before being forced to re-attain her human body and whether her time spent as a snake would require her to hunt like the species or if her human digestive system remained within her cold scales.

Such fascinating theories that hadn't been explored within the multitude of texts she had absorbed before beginning the process of becoming an animagi creature.

"Bella?"

"Yes, young princess?"

Hermione clicked her tongue in annoyance, "Not that nickname." she slipped on a pair of modest, white heels, "What do you know of witch magic?"

"You mean the magic we have now?"

"Not necessarily," Hermione sat opposite her like the perfect pureblooded woman Narcissa was training her to be, "What we use right now is wizards magic, or so says Minty. I couldn't help but wonder what witch magic is like."

Bella's countenance twisted into a grimace, "As much as I hate those little vermin-like creatures-"

"House elves, not vermin," Hermione chided, a shadow of her third-year self coming to front as she subconsciously defended Minty's honour through the strained thread that she had once been passionate about and named S.P.E.W.

"House elves. They are capable of seeing the auras around other magical creatures and understanding whether they are powerful, weak and other things like that."

"Like mantis shrimp?"

Bella's face scrunched in confusion, "What?"

"Mantis shrimp," Hermione explained, "They have sixteen colour receptors whereas humans have three and some gifted wizards have four."

"Are you saying that the House of Nott has some kind of relation with these... Mantis Shrimp?"

"No. But perhaps an ancestor of theirs had a mutation of some sort and neglected to write it down as it was... a mutation. Maybe instead they wrote that they had bungled a potion and the extra vision was a side effect?"

Bella hummed as she twirled a black curl around her finger. The older witch truly did look stunning as her body slowly filled out with the regular, exquisite meals plumping the gaunt gaps. Rodolphus and her mental stability was gradually increasing with the consistent socialising with both each other and the Death Eaters that frequented the Manor in order to correspond with Lord Voldemort.

Following the introductory meeting of the new Slytherin Heiress, Hermione had been quick to help Bellatrix regain the intelligence she had forgotten over the years spent staring at damp, mouldy walls in temperatures bordering freezing with minimal clothing to keep her warm. It had been a sort of project for Hermione, something to keep her busy as she ignored Draco as much as she could so as to not get attached within the span of the two-week holiday despite her magic and his urging them to come together.

"What about seers then, little heiress?" a deep voice inputted. 

The two curly haired women turned to face the handsome countenance of Rodolphus Lestrange who had also partaken in Bella's silent game in attempting to find a nickname for the young witch. 

"I am not little." Hermione grumbled petulantly, though her 5'3 stature said otherwise. 

"Whatever lights your wand," he waved off as he held a hand out to his wife, "The Dark Lord requests your presence, Hermione, promptly."

"Did he tell you what for?"

Rodolphus and Bella both snorted amusedly, "He thinks we're not completely stable yet so he keeps things hush hush around us," the Black daughter said. 

"I'm sure-" Hermione began to argue only to be cut off by the reassurances that the couple too deemed it to be quite unsafe to be privy to things that held high stakes of getting them killed. They were content lounging around and regaining their former health, power and beauty whilst the others took the brunt of the work ordered by the dark lord. "Okay then..." 

Pushing the couple out of her room, Hermione warded it behind her as she watched the two figures turn the corner at the end of the hall. Straightening her robes, she descended the few flights of staircases that deposited her on the corridor in which her father used for working. 

Read: Death Eater business.

Knocking thrice, she pushed open the heavy door upon hearing "Enter," and seated herself in one of the two comfortable, leather chairs in front of the desk.

"You asked for me?" she trailed as she shifted to sit comfortably.

"Yes."

"...What for?"

Tom smirked, "Darling daughter, what do you think about having a coming-of-age party in your name?"

"Err.." Hermione glanced around the room, "Aren't coming of age things meant to be done in second year?"

"That's what I said," he smiled, "Narcissa will be throwing you one alongside the annual Malfoy Yuletide Ball so one dress will be enough."

"Thank heavens for that," she muttered under her breath though it did not go amiss by Tom. "What's the point in it, though?"

"It will allow you to make connections with those in your house."

Hermione nearly snorted, "They hate me, Father, they assume I am a mudblood."

"Which is why attending this ball will remove any suspicions that would be created if you claimed your heritage title without extra backing."

"Bloody hell, now parties have to be political?"

Tom's smile dropped into a faint smirk, "They always are."

"Why not just have fun? That's the whole point of one."

The man allowed a chuckle to escape, "Your mother told me that the first time I told her to doll up for Slughorn's Christmas-do."

Hermione swallowed at the warmth encompassing her father's eyes as he spoke of her enigmatic mother that she had yet to meet. "Will you tell me of stories of her? Marlene?"

A pregnant pause suffocated the room as the young witch opted to watch an albino peacock trot by the window placed behind the desk as the formidable wizard contemplated something silently. "Fine. I have years worth of bedtime stories to catch up on anyway." he acquiesced.

Hermione beamed. She stood up from her chair without thought, manoeuvred around the desk and hugged the man as tightly as she could. During her childhood, her adopted parents would ensure she was hugged at least once a day and throughout the previous four years when she attended Hogwarts, they made it some kind of unspoken competition to see if they could beat the amount of hugs they bestowed on her the previous holiday. 

Since her resorting, Hermione could not find a person whom she could hug without raising questions. In Gryffindor, she would turn to Harry for the neglection by his pathetic excuse of an aunt and uncle left him longing for the warm embraces they shared fairly frequently; though with the lack of interaction between them since September, she figured that running up to him and embracing him would only serve to make things weirder than they already were. So she resisted.

Tom had been apathetic and rather repulsed by the idea of human contact when he had been trapped in his diary. Now, after claiming in front of his trusted that she was his daughter, he couldn't possibly reject a mere hug. Could he?

Hermione panicked and began to pull back in embarrassment when he returned her tight squeeze and placed a warm kiss on her forehead. "What was that for, little witch?"

Hermione shrugged, "I'm not little,"

"Not in brain, no, but height you definitely are." he rested a hand on the top of her head as though he were measuring her. "You're a slight bit taller than Marlene. The little midget took short to the next level."

"Did Mother ever manage to land a hex on you?"

"Not once." he stated proudly, "And we duelled quite a fair bit."

"You think she'll let me try and get you in her honour?"

Tom raised an eyebrow, "You think you can land one?"

Hermione smirked, "If two of the best duellers come together, I think the offspring would be a super-duellist, don't you think?"

"Or an extremely lacklustre one."

Hermione's eyes narrowed before she sighed and hugged him again, "I want her back. I want to know what she's like."

She heard the longing in his voice as he mumbled into her hair, "I want my Marlene too."


End file.
